CHAPTER V.
THE 'THUMBOGRAPH' "So your net has been sweeping the quiet and pleasant waters of feminine conversation," remarked Thorndyke when we met at the dinner table and I gave him an outline of my afternoon's adventures.
"Yes," I answered, "and here is the catch cleaned and ready for the consumer." I laid on the table two of my notebooks in which I had entered such facts as I had been able to extract from my talk with Miss Gibson.
"You made your entries as soon as possible after your return, I suppose ?" said Thorndyke--"while the matter was still fresh ?" "I wrote down my notes as I sat on a seat in Kensington Gardens within five minutes after leaving Miss Gibson." "Good!" said Thorndyke.

"And now let us see what you have collected." He glanced quickly through the entries in the two books, referring back once or twice, and stood for a few moments silent and abstracted.

Then he laid the little books down on the table with a satisfied nod.
"Our information, then," he said, "amounts to this: Reuben is an industrious worker at his business and, in his leisure, a student of ancient and medieval art; possibly a babbling fool and a cad or, on the other hand, a maligned and much-abused man.

"Walter Hornby is obviously a sneak and possibly a liar; a keen man of business, perhaps a flutterer round the financial candle that burns in Throgmorton Street; an expert photographer and a competent worker of the collotype process.
You have done a very excellent day's work, Jervis.

I wonder if you see the bearing of the facts that you have collected." "I think I see the bearing of some of them," I answered; "at least, I have formed certain opinions." "Then keep them to yourself, _mon ami_, so that I need not feel as if I ought to unbosom myself of my own views." "I should be very much surprised if you did, Thorndyke," I replied, "and should have none the better opinion of you.