Reginald Brett, barrister-at-law and amateur detective, had seldom been more at peace with the world and his own conscience than when he entered the dining-room of his cosy flat this bright October morning. Since the famous affair of Lady Delia Lyle's disappearance and death, he had not been busy, and the joy of healthy idleness is only known to the hard worker. Again, while dressing, he had received a letter inviting him to a quiet shoot at a delightful place in the country. All these things blended with happy inconsequence to render Brett contented in mind and affable in manner. "It's a fine morning, Smith," he said cheerily, as he settled himself at the table where his "man" was already pouring out the coffee. "Bee-utiful, sir," said Smith. "Smith!" "Yessir."
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