"Here it is," he said. "I'm keeping the little bit of paper that was in the pocket."
The other's pupils contracted.
"What paper's that?"
"The prescription of the dope mixture you handed in to Burgess and Williams, the Brighton chemists, yesterday morning. They put their stamp on it and the date. I've just come back from a chat with them."
The fat man watched the other as a rabbit watches a weasel.
"Are you going to peach?" he said.
"I'll tell you after the National," replied the other.
Joses dropped his voice into his boots.
"Make it a monkey and I'll quit," he muttered. "She's worth it," he added cunningly.
Silver looked at him.