“It is wonderful of you, Lord Wisbeach.”

“Not at all,” replied his lordship.  “It will be a pleasure.”

He held out his hand, drawing it back rapidly as the dog Aida made a snap at it.  Substituting a long-range leave-taking for the more intimate farewell, he left the room.

When he had gone, Mrs. Pett remained for some minutes, thinking.  She was aflame with excitement.  She had a sensational mind, and it had absorbed Lord Wisbeach’s revelations eagerly.  Her admiration for his lordship was intense, and she trusted him utterly.  The only doubt that occurred to her was whether, with the best intentions in the world, he would be able unassisted to foil a pair of schemers so distant from each other geographically as the man who called himself Jimmy Crocker and the man who had called himself Skinner.  That was a point on which they had not touched, the fact that one impostor was above stairs, the other below.  It seemed to Mrs. Pett impossible that Lord Wisbeach, for all his zeal, could watch Skinner without neglecting Jimmy or foil Jimmy without taking his attention off Skinner.  It was manifestly a situation that called for allies.  She felt that she must have further assistance.

To Mrs. Pett, doubtless owing to her hobby of writing sensational fiction, there was a magic in the word detective which was shared by no other word in the language.  She loved detectives—­their keen eyes, their quiet smiles, their Derby hats.  When they came on the stage, she leaned forward in her orchestra chair; when they entered her own stories, she always wrote with a greater zest.  It is not too much to say that she had an almost spiritual attachment for detectives, and the idea of neglecting to employ one in real life, now that circumstances had combined to render his advent so necessary, struck her as both rash and inartistic.  In the old days, when Ogden had been kidnapped, the only thing which had brought her balm had been the daily interviews with the detectives.  She ached to telephone for one now.

The only consideration that kept her back was a regard for Lord Wisbeach’s feelings.  He had been so kind and so shrewd that to suggest reinforcing him with outside assistance must infallibly wound him deeply.  And yet the situation demanded the services of a trained specialist.  Lord Wisbeach had borne himself during their recent conversation in such a manner as to leave no doubt that he considered himself adequate to deal with the matter single-handed:  but admirable though he was he was not a professional exponent of the art of espionage.  He needed to be helped in spite of himself.

A happy solution struck Mrs. Pett.  There was no need to tell him.  She could combine the installation of a detective with the nicest respect for her ally’s feelings by the simple process of engaging one without telling Lord Wisbeach anything about it.