"
"What!" said Bampton, pausing in the act of taking a cigarette,
"then what the devil are you?"
"My name is Paul Harley, and I am a criminal investigator."
He spoke the words deliberately, having his eyes fixed upon the
other's face; but although Bampton was palpably startled there
was no trace of fear in his straightforward glance. He took a
cigarette from the case, and:
"Thanks, Mr. Harley," he said. "I cannot imagine what business
has brought you here."
"I have come to ask you two questions," was the reply. "Number
one: Who paid you to smash Major Ragstaff's white hat? Number
two: How much did he pay you?"
To these questions I listened in amazement, and my amazement was
evidently shared by Bampton. He had been in the act of lighting
his cigarette, but he allowed the match to burn down nearly to
his fingers and then dropped it with a muttered exclamation in
the fire. Finally:
"I don't know how you found out," he said, "but you evidently
know the truth. Provided you assure me that you are not out to
make a silly-season newspaper story, I'll tell you all I know."
Harley laid his card on the table, and:
"Unless the ends of justice demand it," he said, "I give you my
word that anything you care to say will go no further.
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