"Mud-stains, old carelessness," said Bones tersely. "You've come from
Twickenham this morning."
"Of course I've come from Twickenham. That's where I live," said
Hamilton innocently. "I thought you knew that."
"I should have known it," said Bones, with great gravity, "even if I
hadn't known it, so to speak. You may have observed, my dear Hamilton,
that the jolly old mud of London differs widely--that is to say, is
remarkably different. For instance, the mud of Twickenham is different
from the mud of Balham. There's what you might call a subtle
difference, dear junior partner, which an unimaginative old rascal like
you wouldn't notice. Now, the mud of Peckham," said Bones, waving his
forefinger, "is distinguished by a certain darkness----"
"Wait a bit," said Hamilton. "Have you bought a mud business or
something?"
"No," said Bones.
"And yet this conversation seems familiar to me," mused Hamilton.
"Proceed with your argument, good gossip."
"My argument," said Bones, "is that you have Twickenham mud on your
boots, therefore you come from Twickenham. It is evident that on your
way to the station you stopped to buy a newspaper, that something was
on your mind, something made you very thoughtful--something on your
jolly old conscience, I'll bet!"
"How do you know that?" asked Hamilton.
"There's your Times on the table," said Bones triumphantly,
"unopened."
"Quite true," said Hamilton; "I bought it just before I came into the
office."
"H'm!" said Bones. "Well, I won't deceive you, dear old partner. I've
bought Siker's."
Hamilton put down his pen and leaned back in his chair.
"Who's Siker's?"
"Siker's Detective Agency," began Bones, "is known from one end----"
"Oh, I see. Whew!" whistled Hamilton. "You were doing a bit of
detecting!"
Bones smirked.
"Got it at once, my dear old person," he said. "You know my
methods----"
Hamilton's accusing eye met his, and Bones coughed.
"But what on earth do you expect to do with a detective agency, Bones?"
asked Hamilton, strolling across and lighting a cigarette. "That's a
type of business there isn't any big demand for. And how is it going
to affect you personally? You don't want your name associated with
that sort of thing."
Bones explained. It was a property he could "sit on." Bones had
always been looking for such a business. The management was capable of
carrying on, and all that Bones need do was to sit tight and draw a
dividend.
As to his name, he had found a cunning solution to that difficulty.
"I take it over, by arrangement with the lawyer in the name of 'Mr.
Senob,' and I'll bet you won't guess, dear old Ham, how I got that
name!"
"It's 'Bones' spelt backwards," said Hamilton patiently. "You tried
that bit of camouflage on me years ago."
Bones sniffed disappointedly and went on.