Self-assurance, a deep faith in one’s self - they help. But Sergeant Chan is modest?”

“Is he? ‘Falling hurts least those who fly low’ - that’s the way he put it to me. And Sergeant Chan flies so low he skims the daisies.”

Sir Frederic rose and stepped to the window. He gazed down at the spatter of lights flung like a handful of stars over the darkening town. For a moment he said nothing. Then he turned to the reporter.

“A modest detective,” he said, with a grim smile. “That’s a novelty, at any rate. I should like very much to meet this Sergeant Chan.”

Bill Rankin sighed with relief. His task was unbelievably easy, after all.

“That’s exactly what I came here to suggest,” he said briskly. “I’d like to bring you and Charlie Chan together - hear you go over your methods and experiences - you know, just a real good talk. I was wondering if you would do us the great honor to join Mr. Chan and me at lunch tomorrow?”

The former head of the C.I.D. hesitated. “Thank you very much. But I am more or less in Mr. Kirk’s hands. He is giving a dinner tomorrow night, and I believe he said something about luncheon tomorrow, too. Much as I should like to accept at once, decidedly we must consult Mr. Kirk.”

“Well, let’s find him. Where is he?” Bill Rankin was all business.

“I fancy he is up in the bungalow.” Sir Frederic turned and, swinging shut the door of a big wall safe, swiftly twirled the knob.

“You did that just like an American business man, Sir Frederic,” Rankin smiled.

The detective nodded. “Mr. Kirk has kindly allowed me to use his office while I am his guest.”

“Ah - then you’re not altogether on a pleasure trip,” said Bill Rankin quickly.

The gray eyes hardened. “Absolutely - a pleasure trip. But there are certain matters - private business - I am writing my Memoirs -“

“Ah yes - of course,” apologized the reporter.

The door opened, and a cleaning woman entered. Sir Frederic turned to her. “Good evening,” he said. “You understand that no papers on this desk - or in it - are to be interfered with in any way?”

“Oh, yes, sir,” the woman answered.

“Very good. Now, Mr. - er - Mr. -“

“Rankin, Sir Frederic.”

“Of course.