Angel Esquire made a little grimace.
“Lawyers certainly do queer things,” he said dryly.
“Does Mr. Spedding offer any suggestion as to how the money came into this man’s possession?”
“No, sir. He thinks he might have obtained it quite honestly. I understand that the man who received the money was a shady sort of customer.”
“So I should imagine,” said Angel Esquire.
Left alone, he sat in deep thought drawing faces on his blotting-pad.
Then he touched a bell.
“Send Mr. Carter to me,” he directed, and in a few minutes a bright-faced youth, fingering an elementary mustache, was awaiting his orders.
“Carter,” said Angel cautiously, “it must be very dull work in the finger-print department.”
“I don’t know, sir,” said the other, a fairly enthusiastic ethnologist, “we’ve got——”