“What do you mean—coop? Are you looking for people who steal chickens?” asked Gordon, at sea.
“By ‘coop’ I mean—well, you know what I mean, sir. Suppose I bring off a big bit of business—”
“Oh, coup!” said Gordon, enlightened. “I see. You have a coup?”
“I always called it coop myself,” said Mr. Superbus graciously, and leaving Gordon with the impression that he was being humoured. “Yes, I’ve got a coop up my sleeve.” He lowered his voice and stretched himself to as near Gordon as his body could reach. “I’m after Double Dan,” he whispered hoarsely.
A heavy burden rolled from Gordon’s heart. So the “Mrs.” had nothing to do with the matter at all! Nor the gross husband, who thought more of his dogs and his horses than of the flaming intellect of his beautiful wife. (Gordon was thorough: the gross husband must have his pets.)
“I seem to remember the name,” he said slowly. “Double Dan? Isn’t that the man who impersonates people?”
“You’ve got it, sir,” said Mr. Superbus. “He don’t impersonate them, he is them! Take Mr. Mendlesohn——”
Now Gordon remembered.
“You’d never think anybody could impersonate him, though, with his white whiskers and him not being married, it wasn’t so hard. He got away with eight thousand pounds, did Dan. Got Mr. Mendlesohn out of the way, walked into his private office and sent a new clerk out with a cheque. That’s why Mr. Mendlesohn’s gone into the country. He daren’t hold up his head.”
“Oh, I see,” said Gordon slowly. “You’re acting on behalf of——?”