“Still, he tells us really nothing about the theft,” he remarked sociably.
“No,” admitted the Manager, experiencing some little difficulty with his breathing, “he does not.”
“Well, we still hope to be able to report something to-morrow. Good-bye.”
It was with an effort that Mr Carlyle straightened himself sufficiently to take leave of the Manager. Several times in the corridor he stopped to wipe his eyes.
“Max, you unholy fraud,” he said, when they were outside, “you knew all the time.”
“No; I told you that I knew nothing of it,” replied Carrados frankly. “I am absolutely sincere.”
“Then all I can say is, that I see a good many things happen that I don’t believe in.”
Carrados’s reply was to hold out a coin to a passing newsboy and to hand the purchase to his friend who was already in the car.
“There is a slang injunction to ‘keep your eyes skinned.’ That being out of my power, I habitually ‘keep my ears skinned.’ You would be surprised to know how very little you hear, Louis, and how much you miss. In the last five minutes up there I have had three different newsboys’ account of this development.”
“By Jupiter, she hasn’t waited long!” exclaimed Mr Carlyle, referring eagerly to the headlines. “‘PEARL NECKLACE SENSATION. SOCIETY LADY’S ₤5000 TRINKET DISAPPEARS.’ Things are moving. Where next, Max?”