“You haven’t seen him since then, sir?” the man asked.
Laverick lied promptly but he lied badly. His visitor was not in the least convinced.
“I am afraid I haven’t made myself quite plain, sir,” he said. “It’s to do him a bit o’ good that I’m here. I’m not wishing him any harm at all. On the contrary, it’s a great deal more to his advantage to see me than it will be mine to find him.”
“I think,” Laverick suggested, “that you had better be frank with me. Supposing I knew where to catch Morrison before he left the country, I could easily deal with you on his behalf.”
The man looked doubtful.
“You see, sir,” he replied awkwardly, “it’s a matter I wouldn’t like to breathe a word about to any one but Mr. Morrison himself. It’s—it’s a bit serious.”
The man’s face gave weight to his words. Curiously enough, the gleam of terror which Laverick caught in his white face reminded him of a similar look which he had seen in Morrison’s eyes barely an hour ago. To gain time, Laverick moved across the room, took a cigarette from a box and lit it. A conviction was forming itself in his mind. There was something definite behind these hysterical paroxysms of his late partner, something of which this man had an inkling.
“Look here,” he said, throwing himself into an easychair, “I think you had better be frank with me. I must know more than I know at present before I help you to find Morrison, even if he is to be found. We didn’t part very good friends, but I’m his friend enough—for the sake of others,” he added, after a moment’s hesitation, “to do all that I could to help him out of any difficulty he may have stumbled into. So you see that so far as anything you may have to say to him is concerned, I think you might as well say it to me.”
“You couldn’t see your way, then, sir,” the man continued doggedly, “to tell me where I could find Mr. Morrison himself?”
“No, I couldn’t,” Laverick decided. “Even if I knew exactly where he was—and I’m not admitting that—I couldn’t put you in touch with him unless I knew what your business was.”