"And made yourself scarce?"
"I did," admitted Cicero frankly. "I departed as soon as you were out of sight, knowing that my letter would be delivered, and that you might call in the police."
"Ah, a guilty conscience!"
"Far from it." Cicero flung open his dressing-gown and struck his chest. "Here purity and innocence and peace are enthroned. I did not wish to be taken by the minions of the law, lest they should wrest from me for nothing what I should prefer to sell for a few pounds. Besides, I wished to see you in my own house. A poor establishment," said Mr. Gramp, looking round the meager room, "but mine own."
He bowed gracefully, as if for applause.
"Come, Mr. Gramp," said Alan diplomatically, "let us get to business. What do you know about this matter?"
"About the hundred pounds?" asked the man with an appearance of great simplicity.
"I'll pay you that, more or less, when I know what your information is worth."
"More or less won't do, Mr. Thorold. I want, from Miss Marlow or from you, one hundred pounds."
"I know, and two hundred from Mrs. Warrender."