“You’d do anything for Mrs. Embury, wouldn’t you?”
“Anything.” The simple assertion told the whole story, and Fibsy nodded with satisfaction.
“Then tell me truly, sir, please, wasn’t Mr. Embury a—a—a—”
“Careful there—he’s dead, you know.”
“Yes, I know—but it’s necessary, sir. Wasn’t he a—I don’t know the right term, but wasn’t he a money-grabber?”
“In what way?” Elliott spoke very gravely.
“You know best, sir. He was your partner—had been for some years. But—on the side, now—didn’t he do this? Lend money-sorta personally, you know—on security.”
“And if he did?”
“Didn’t he demand big security—didn’t he get men—his friends even—in his power—and then come down on ‘em—oh, wasn’t he a sort of a loan shark?”
“Where did you get all this?”