“Good afternoon.” He passed by the middle-aged man at the entrance and pushed something into his hand. The man looked at it and smiled—then put his finger to his forehead in salute.
“Thank you, sir. You’re a gentleman. Still—there was no necessity——”
Peter waved a sympathetic hand and departed.
Half an hour later saw him back at the office in Cornhill.
“Well?” said Linnell as he entered the room, “everything satisfactory?”
Peter sat on the corner of the table and swung his leg.
“I went up there, as we arranged, and I had a look at the stuff we’ve been asked to get.” He paused.
“Yes?” interrogated Linnell. “What did you think of it?”
“Hard to say. The Pearl Collar is really magnificent, and the screen I should say will prove a tremendous attraction for the ‘genus’ collector—the species that we are deputed to represent—the Rosary, in my opinion, won’t fetch anything like so much.”
“H’m,” said Linnell reflectively. He traced a pattern on his blotting-paper with his pen. Then he looked up at his companion.