“Solved another mystery?” asked Mrs. Hardy gaily, as she poured the coffee. She seldom asked questions about her husband’s work, being of a gentle nature that instinctively shrank from any discussion of crime. It frequently distressed her that Mr. Hardy’s occupation should be one that meant terms of imprisonment for those whom his cunning and cleverness had brought to justice. But her husband’s attitude this morning was so unmistakably jubilant that she was glad for his sake if he had scored another success.

“Practically solved, my dear. If you’d care to hear all about it⁠—”

“Not me. You know I don’t care to hear about these terrible things.”

“Well, the boys shall hear of it then. They are interested. If they’ll come into my den after breakfast I’ll tell them all about it.”

“That means you succeeded,” Frank said.