“Would you wait for me?” Manning was silent for a space. “You be off, missie,” said the fatherly policeman. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. "But I have one last request to make. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. "Gentlemen," returned the Master, solemnly, "it is a question easily answered— they are NOWHERE! Had they hanged the bailiffs, the bailiffs would not have hanged them. He was a man tout à fait capable, this Gerald. I packed them with the other few things I owned. Where is he?" "Within this room," replied the knight.
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