“Take A Chance Anderson; my lad, you will have to take a chance,” he said, and pushed the letter aside unopened.
He lunched at his club, sent a brief letter to Maxell, and returned to his office at two in the afternoon. His clerk told him that a man was waiting for him in the inner office. Cartwright hesitated with his hand on the door; then, setting his teeth, he stepped in.
The stranger rose.
“Are you Mr. Alfred Cartwright?” he asked.
“That is my name,” replied Cartwright.
“I am Inspector Guilbury, of the City Police,” said the stranger, “and I shall take you into custody on charges under the Companies Act, and a further charge of conspiracy to defraud.”
Cartwright laughed.
“Go ahead,” he said.
All the week preceding the trial, Cartwright’s heart was filled with warm, gratitude to his erstwhile friend. He did not doubt, when his solicitor told him that Mr. Justice Maxell would try his case, that Maxell had gone a long way out of his way to get himself appointed the Old Bailey judge. How like Maxell it was—that queer, solemn stick—and how loyal!