The voice was that of an educated man, its modulation, the confidence and the perfect poise of the speaker suggested the college man.
"So that you shall not be shocked by revelations I must tell you that I have just come out of prison. I am by way of being a professional burglar."
"I am not easily shocked," said Beale.
He glanced at the professor.
"I see," said Parson Homo, rising, "that I am de trop. Unfortunately I cannot go into the street without risking arrest. In this country, you know, there is a law which is called the Prevention of Crimes Act, which empowers the unemployed members of the constabulary who find time hanging on their hands to arrest known criminals on suspicion if they are seen out in questionable circumstances. And as all circumstances are questionable to the unimaginative 'flattie,' and his no less obtuse friend the 'split,' I will retire to the bedroom and stuff my ears with cotton-wool."
"You needn't," smiled Beale, "I guess the professor hasn't many secrets from you."
"Go on guessing, my ingenious friend," said the parson, smiling with his eyes, "my own secrets I am willing to reveal but—adios!"
He waved his hand and passed behind the cretonne curtain and the old man looked up from his instrument.
"It is the Donovan Leichmann body that I search for," he said solemnly; "there was a case of sleeping-sickness at the docks, and the Herr Professor of the Tropical School so kindly let me have a little blood for testing."
"Professor," said Beale, sitting down in the place which Parson Homo had vacated and leaning across the table, "are you still working for van Heerden?"
The old man rolled his big head from side to side in an agony of protest.
"Of the learned doctor I do not want to speak," he said, "to me he has been most kind. Consider, Heir Peale, I was starving in this country which hates Germans and regard as a mad old fool and an ugly old devil, and none helped me until the learned doctor discovered me. I
