He was wearing a morning coat and silk hat, his patent boots were faultlessly polished, his trousers pressed to perfection, his grey silk tie neat and fashionable.

Notwithstanding his waxenlike pallor, his slim figure and lithe, athletic walk seemed to speak of good health.
"You may catch the minnow," he murmured.

"The big fish swim on.
By-the-bye," he added, "I do not notice that your sledge-hammer blows at crime are having much effect.

Two undetected murders last week, and one the week before.

What are you about, my astute friend ?" "Those are matters for Scotland Yard," Francis replied, with an indifferent little wave of the hand which held his cigarette.