Cleek is a detective as remarkable, though not so convincingly drawn, as Sherlock Holmes. He has, however, the prime quality of always being in an apparently hopeless tangle of circumstances, and he has also the genius of getting out.
alking up and down the room, his face fairly glowing; and if he had put his thoughts into words they would have run like this:
"Margot's crew, of course. And he must have guessed that something of the sort would happen some time if he stopped there after that Silver Snare business at Roehampton--either from her lot or from the followers of that Mauravanian johnnie who was at the back of it. They were after him even in that little game, those two. I wonder why? What the dickens, when one comes to think of it, could have made the Prime Minister of Mauravania interest himself in an Apache trick to 'do in' an ex-cracksman? Gad! she flies high, sometimes, that Margot! Prime Minister of Mauravania! And the fool faced fifteen years hard to do the thing and let her get off scot free! Faced it and--took it; and is taking it still, for the sake of helping her to wipe off an old score against a reformed criminal. Wonder if Cleek ever crossed him in something? Wonder if he, too, was on the 'crook