“Whenever you like,” says I, “for the thief is found.”

“Just what I expected,” says he.  “I’ve done all the work; and now you cut in, and claim all the credit.—­Mr. Jay, of course?”

“No,” says I.

“Who is it, then?” says he.

“Ask Mrs. Yatman,” says I.  “She’ll tell you.”

“All right!  I’d much rather hear it from her than from you,” says he,—­and goes into the house in a mighty hurry.

What do you think of that, Inspector Theakstone?  Would you like to stand in Mr. Sharpin’s shoes?  I shouldn’t, I can promise you!

FROM CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE TO MR. MATTHEW SHARPIN.

July 12th.

Sir,

Sergeant Bulmer has already told you to consider yourself suspended until further notice.  I have now authority to add, that your services as a member of the Detective Police are positively declined.  You will please to take this letter as notifying officially your dismissal from the force.

I may inform you, privately, that your rejection is not intended to cast any reflections on your character.  It merely implies that you are not quite sharp enough for our purpose.  If we are to have a new recruit among us, we should infinitely prefer Mrs. Yatman.

Your obedient servant,

Francis Theakstone.

* * * * *

Note on the preceding correspondence—­The editor is, unfortunately, not in a position to add any explanations of importance to the last of the published letters of Chief Inspector Theakstone.  It has been discovered that Mr. Matthew Sharpin left the house in Rutherford Street a quarter of an hour after his interview outside of it with Sergeant Bulmer,—­his manner expressing the liveliest emotions of terror and astonishment, and his left cheek displaying a bright patch of red, which looked as if it might have been the result of what is popularly termed a smart box on the ear.  He was also heard, by the shopman at Rutherford Street, to use a very shocking expression in reference to Mrs. Yatman; and was seen to clinch his fist vindictively, as he ran round the corner of the street.  Nothing more has been heard of him; and it is conjectured that he has left London with the intention of offering his valuable services to the provincial police.

On the interesting domestic subject of Mr. and Mrs. Yatman still less is known.  It has, however, been positively ascertained that the medical attendant of the family was sent for in a great hurry on the day when Mr. Yatman returned from the milliner’s shop.  The neighboring chemist received, soon afterwards, a prescription of a soothing nature to make up for Mrs. Yatman.  The day after, Mr. Yatman purchased some smelling-salts at the shop, and afterwards appeared at the circulating library to ask for a novel that would amuse an invalid lady.  It has been inferred from these circumstances that he has not thought it desirable to carry out his threat of separating himself from his wife,—­at least in the present (presumed) condition of that lady’s sensitive nervous system.