“You think it's the manager?”
“I wonder if I really do?” murmured Pointer sarcastically.
“Looks as though he were certainly in it for something, even if it's only shielding Beale,” O'Connor answered for him. “Then there's Carter-Cox. He has a direct inducement.”
“Very direct.”
“Curious will that!” O'Connor spoke almost to himself.
“But then the whole thing is odd.” Pointer puffed away in silence.
“True for you,” O'Connor nodded; “the separate slips—that will sent to his old family solicitor, with whom he had had next to no dealings. And then you spoke of his clothes——”
“They struck even the jeweller when he went about his watch,” agreed Pointer. “All well enough in their way, but not at all those of a wealthy young man.”
“And a mother with over seven thousand a year, and an uncle worth as much, too—he must have made the money fly!”
O'Connor's tone of virtuous horror made Pointer think of Russell.