Mr. Capper admitted the fact as he glanced at them. They had been paid to him two days ago and by him passed on to a wholesale firm of upholsterers.
"In fact," he said, "the customer who gave them me is now in the shop."
The official-looking man stepped forward. As he came into the light Bruce recognised him for Sergeant Prout. A sense of uneasiness came over him. Prout touched his cap and then indicated the notes.
"A word with you, Dr. Bruce," he said. "These notes, 190753 to 190792, were in the possession of the man found murdered at the corner house in Raven Street. We know they were stolen from him. The next day they were paid here in purchase of some furniture."
"Some mistake," said Bruce. "I certainly paid forty five-pound notes here the day after the murder, but they came into my possession the night before. If those are the notes you say they are I never touched them."
Prout turned the notes over and opened them out like a pack of cards.
"Is not that your signature endorsed on every one?" he asked.
"Good heavens," Bruce cried hoarsely, "it is. It would be futile to deny it."