Not least of these was the arrest of Vinnis. After his interview with old George, Spedding had decided on a waiting policy. The old man had been taken to the house at Clapham. Spedding had been prepared to wait patiently until some freak of mind brought back the memory to the form of cryptogram he had advised. A dozen times a day he asked the old man—
“What is your name?”
“Old George, only old George,” was the invariable reply, with many grins and noddings.
“But your real name, the name you had when you were a—professor.”
But this would only start the old man off on a rambling reminiscence of his “munificent patron.”
Connor came secretly to Clapham for orders. It was the night after Vinnis had been arrested.
“We’ve got to move at once, Mr. Connor,” said the lawyer. Connor sat in the chair that had held Jimmy a few nights previous. “It is no use waiting for the old man to talk, the earlier plan was best.”
“Has anything happened?” asked Connor. His one-time awe of the lawyer had merged in the familiarity of conspiratorship.
“There was a detective at my office to-day inquiring about some notes that were found on Vinnis. Angel Esquire will draw his own conclusions, and we have no time to lose.”
“We are ready,” said Connor.