"Is the fellow a sahib?"
"Good God, no. Looks like an attorney's clerk or something. A nasty little tout."
"Glad you told me. I shouldn't wonder if he's the snag I'm up against. Probably Oliver coverin' his tracks."
"Do you suspect this Oliver of something wrong?"
"Well—I rather think so. But I'm damned if I know quite what. I think he knows something about old Fentiman that we don't. And of course he knows how he spent the night, and that's what I'm after."
"What the devil does it matter how he spent the night? He can't have been very riotous, at his age."
"It might throw some light on the time he arrived in the morning, mightn't it?"
"Oh—Well, all I can say is, I hope to God you'll hurry up and finish with it. This Club's becoming a perfect bear-garden. I'd almost rather have the police in."
"Keep hopin'. You may get 'em yet."
"You don't mean that, seriously?"