“He is a pompous, self-deceiving, hypocritical poseur.”
“Uh!... As to intelligence?”
“As your chemist would say—a trace.”
“I fear,” he said, “you have neglected to moisten him with iodine.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he said, “that you have utterly failed to comprehend what you are facing—what it is you have to do in this headstrong crusade of yours against the liquor smugglers.”
“What has that to do with Abner Fownes?”
“That,” he said, “is the big question.”
“But why should he? That is absurd. Perhaps the smugglers are using him as a cat’s-paw in some manner—but he’s rich. There’s no need. These men take the risks they must for profit.”
“Miss Lee,” he said, “you—er—challenged me to investigate this affair. I promised to do so.... I have set about it in an orderly manner.”