"The least you have to say about the matter the better. This is not a
case for you or for me, but for the captain in the morning."
The captain appeared unusually early in the morning with some half-dozen
papers in his hand. Slapping the morning editions, scareheads, uppermost
in front of the sergeant, he blurted out:--
"What's this here?"
The sergeant glanced at the topmost sheet and skimmed rapidly over the
details.
"Don't know where they got the facts, but it looks like they got 'em
_right_."
The captain scratched his head, then for the next few minutes he looked
out of the window and watched the passing throng; he was pondering
deeply. Finally he inquired:--
"What did you do?"
The desk-sergeant grinned.
"Not a bloomin' thing," he answered.
The captain shot a glance of surprised approval at his inferior.
"For once, by gum," he conceded, "you hit the nail upon the head. This
isn't a case for the police--not yet."
"Then for who?" The desk-sergeant looked dubious.
"For Peter Broderick," said the captain, nodding.
"What's Peter Broderick got to do with it?" inquired the desk-sergeant,
still doubtful.