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shelves⁠—he was looking for material for his evening sermon.

The only problem that remains to me is this⁠—Do we really know in full the part which Miss Rendall-Smith plays in the story? Davenant's excessive anxiety to keep her out of the whole business looks to me, I confess, suspicious. But I know how you distrust theories; and perhaps since Davenant was content to die in silence it would be ungenerous to probe further. The police, certainly, have made no attempt to do so. Reeves has never called on Miss R.-S., or heard from her.

Reeves himself, meanwhile, is entirely changed for the better. He has forsworn detective work, and succeeded in doing the ninth in four. The other day I actually heard him start a sentence with the words "When I was a limpet in the War Office," so I think there is hope for him yet. I call him "Mordaunt Reeves, the Converted Detective."

I hope you will excuse my typewriting this letter; its inordinate length must be my apology. I hope we shall see you here again before long, and have less stirring times together. My wife wishes to be remembered to you very kindly; her rheumatism has almost disappeared.