He was breakfasting rather later, but quite modestly, in his chambers when Lawrence called on him the next morning. There were a good many points in common between the two men despite their different dispositions.
"Funny thing over those notes last night," said the man of money. "I suppose that is what you came to talk to me about."
"What a luminous mind yours is," Lawrence replied. "That's just why I did come. As you know, I am deeply interested in clearing up the Corner House mystery. I've got nearer to it than anybody imagines. Do you happen to have any idea who came with those particular notes last night?"
"Not the ghost of one," Isidore admitted. "I can read men and minds, but motives are sometimes beyond an amateur like me. Do you know?"
"Yes," said Lawrence, "I do."
"Which means that you are not going to tell me?"
"Not for the present, my boy. Without boasting, I do know, but I could not prove it yet; at least, not to the legal mind. Have you got those notes?"
Isidore intimated that they were in his safe. He took out the whole roll, and asked Lawrence to sort out the particular ones for himself.
"I only want one," Lawrence explained, "and this one will do admirably. I am going to take it away, if you don't mind. You will be able to recognise it by this queer yellow stain. Why didn't you decline to take them last night?"
"Why should I?" Isidore asked coolly. "They came to me through a third party for value received, so that they are quite good. When these notes are presented the bank is bound to cash them. I'd give sixpence to know what is behind that queer, clever, ingenious brain of yours."