The next morning, Klein's knock woke Cyril early. At Klein's urging, he hurriedly got himself ready and went out.
At a breakfast shop across from the Coim Company in Cherwood Borough, Cyril sipped the sweet iced tea Klein had enthusiastically recommended and yawned as he watched the company's entrance across the street.
"So you dragged me out this early just to catch someone cheating?"
Klein finished the pie in his hand without changing expression, then took a napkin and wiped his mouth before replying unhurriedly:
"This is a detective's line of work. Don't let all those popular detective novels on the market brainwash you. How many cases do you think real detectives have to solve?"
"Have you heard this saying? In Backlund, eight out of ten detectives spend their days looking for cats or catching cheaters,
one more is on his way to catch a cheater, and the last one's lost in the smog."
After a moment of silence, Klein took a sip of his sweet iced tea, as if to cover his embarrassment.
"Not funny?"
"Even if it's just a corny joke, it does reflect the state of detectives."
"Honestly, I'm not too fond of this kind of commission either. But Mrs. Mary paid ten pounds for it. Even if it's only for the sake of the money, I ought to do my best to see it through."
As he spoke, Klein abruptly changed tack and stared straight past Cyril:
"Our target's here."
Cyril turned around curiously and saw a slightly plump man in a black bowler hat and a double-breasted wool overcoat, with a neatly tied bow tie beneath his collar, walking out of the Coim Company.
While he was sizing up the gentleman who was cheating on his wife, who was now gathering evidence against him, Klein