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"Two distinct shapes—squat, crooked-legged human shapes—became visible against the darkness."
"Mon Dieu! Is it that we are arrest'?" Jules de Grandin half rose from the dinner table in mock consternation as the vigorous ringing of the front door bell was followed by a heavy tramp in the hall, and Nora, my household factotum, ushered Detective Sergeant Costello and two uniformed policemen into the dining room.
"Not a bit of it," Costello negatived with a grin as he seated himself on the extreme forward edge of the chair I indicated and motioned the two patrolmen to seats beside him. "Not a bit of it, Dr. de Grandin, sor; but we're after askin' a favor of you, if you don't mind. This is Officer Callaghan"—he indicated the burly,red-headed policeman at his right—"an' this is Officer Schippert. Both good boys, sor, an' worthy to be believed, for I know 'em of old."
"I doubt it not," de Grandin acknowledged the introduction with one of his quick smiles, "those whom you vouch for are surely not to be despised, mon vieux. But this favor you would have of me, what of it?"
Detective Sergeant Costello clasped his black derby hat in a viselike grip between his knees and stared into its interior as though he expected to find inspiration there. "We're after wantin' some information in th' Craven case, if ye don't mind, sor," he replied.
"Eh, the Craven case?" de Grandin echoed. "Parbleu, old friend, I fear you have come to the wrong bureau of information. I know nothing of the matter except such tags of
gossip as I have heard, and that is
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