“I put together odds and ends of talk I’ve heard—and it must be so. That Mr. Patterson, now—”
“Patterson! What do you know of him?”
“Nothing, but that he owed Mr. Embury a lot, and his household stuff was the collateral—and—”
“Were did you learn that? I insist on knowing!”
“Servants’ gossip, sir. I picked it up in the apartment house. He and the Emburys live in the same one, you know.”
“McGuire, you are on a wrong trail. Mr. Embury may have lent money to his friends—may have had collateral security from them—probably did—but that’s nothing to do with his being killed. And as it is a blot on his memory, I do not want the matter made public.”
“I understand that, Mr. Elliott—neither do I. But sposin’ the discovery of the murderer hinges on that very thing—that very branch of Mr. Embury’s business—then mustn’t it be looked into?”
“Perhaps it—must—but not by you.”
“No, sir, By F. Stone.”