"I know nothing about that. I did not even notice if the man had such a cross on his chain. In fact," added Morley frankly, "he was too shabby and poverty-stricken to have a chain. I think Anne Denham killed Daisy; you think this man did, and——"
"Pardon," protested Steel. "I have not yet made up my mind. But the two fled together, and there must be some reason for that."
"If so, it will be found in the past history of both, or either. You know where to look for the man. I can get from my wife the address of the Governesses' Institute where she engaged Miss Denham. That is all I can do, unless I take up the case myself."
Steel looked up with a laugh. He was copying the address of the solicitors from the summons, but could not help pausing to reply to this egotistical remark. "Why, Mr. Morley, what do you know of such work?" he asked, bantering.
"Much more than you would give me credit for. Did you ever hear of—by the way, this is another of my secrets I am telling you, so please don't repeat it."
"Are you going to say that you were in the profession?"
"I am. You may have heard of Joe Bart."
"I should think so," said Steel quickly. "He had a splendid reputation, and was much thought of. But he retired before I came to London. I was in the country police for a long time. But"—he started up—"you don't mean to say that——"
"That I am Joe Bart?" interrupted Morley, not ill-pleased. "Yes, I do. I retired over ten years ago, more fool I. You see, Steel, I grew wearied of thief-catching, and as I had a chance of marrying a widow with money, I took the offer and retired. But"—he looked at the summons—"the game wasn't worth the candle. I have had nothing but trouble. Still, I am devoted to my wife and her children."
"And you have forgotten your former glory," said Steel enthusiastically; "surely not. That Hatton Garden jewel robbery, the man with the red coat who committed the Lichfield murder, and——"