difficult to arouse. If it ever slumbered from sheer weariness, it
was but lightly; and his appreciation of Chief Inspector Heat’s
zeal and ability, moderate in itself, excluded all notion of moral
confidence. “He’s up to something,” he exclaimed mentally, and at
once became angry. Crossing over to his desk with headlong
strides, he sat down violently. “Here I am stuck in a litter of
paper,” he reflected, with unreasonable resentment, “supposed to
hold all the threads in my hands, and yet I can but hold what is
put in my hand, and nothing else. And they can fasten the other
ends of the threads where they please.”
He raised his head, and turned towards his subordinate a long,
meagre face with the accentuated features of an energetic Don
Quixote.
“Now what is it you’ve got up your sleeve?”
The other stared. He stared without winking in a perfect
immobility of his round eyes, as he was used to stare at the
various members of the criminal class when, after being duly
cautioned, they made their statements in the tones of injured
innocence, or false simplicity, or sullen resignation. But behind
that professional and stony fixity there was some surprise too, for
in such a tone, combining nicely the note of contempt and
impatience, Chief Inspector Heat, the right-hand man of the
department, was not used to be addressed. He began in a
procrastinating manner, like a man taken unawares by a new and
unexpected experience.
“What I’ve got against that man Michaelis you mean, sir?”
The Assistant Commissioner watched the bullet head; the points of
that Norse rover’s moustache, falling below the line of the heavy
jaw; the whole full and pale physiognomy, whose determined
character was marred by too much flesh; at the cunning wrinkles
radiating from the outer corners of the eyes – and in that
purposeful contemplation of the valuable and trusted officer he
drew a conviction so sudden that it moved him like an inspiration.
“I have reason to think that when you came into this room,” he said
in measured tones, “it was not Michaelis who was in your mind; not
principally – perhaps not at all.”
“You have reason to think, sir?” muttered Chief Inspector Heat,
with every appearance of astonishment, which up to a certain point
was genuine enough. He had discovered in this affair a delicate
and perplexing side, forcing upon the discoverer a certain amount
of insincerity – that sort of insincerity which, under the names of
skill, prudence, discretion, turns up at one point or another in
most human affairs. He felt at the moment like a tight-rope artist
might feel if suddenly, in the middle of the performance, the
manager of the Music Hall were to rush out of the proper managerial
seclusion and begin to shake the rope. Indignation, the sense of
moral insecurity engendered by such a treacherous proceeding joined
to the immediate apprehension of a broken neck, would, in the
colloquial phrase, put him in a state. And there would be also
some scandalised concern for his art too, since a man must identify
himself with something more tangible than his own personality, and
establish his pride somewhere, either in his social position, or in
the quality of the work he is obliged to do, or simply in the
superiority of the idleness he may be fortunate enough to enjoy.
“Yes,” said the Assistant Commissioner; “I have. I do not mean to
say that you have not thought of Michaelis at all. But you are
giving the fact you’ve mentioned a prominence which strikes me as
not quite candid, Inspector Heat. If that is really the track of
discovery, why haven’t you followed it up at once, either
personally or by sending one of your men to that village?”
“Do you think, sir, I have failed in my duty there?” the Chief
Inspector asked, in a tone which he sought to make simply
reflective. Forced unexpectedly to concentrate his faculties upon
the task of preserving his balance, he had seized upon that point,
and exposed himself to a rebuke; for, the Assistant Commissioner
frowning slightly, observed that this was a very improper remark to
make.
“But since you’ve made it,” he continued coldly, “I’ll tell you