“Very good, Slogger, very good indeed. I think I can manage with that. Now will you meet me to-morrow morning at the door of his office at eleven o’clock. I have written the address down upon that bit of paper, so that there can be no mistake about it I do not want you to go in with me, but just to be there if wanted.”
“All right, Mr. Prescott, I’m on.”
And so Prescott took his leave, and soon emerged from the narrow street into the broad glare of the Haymarket.
The next day at eleven Prescott entered Mr. Barton’s office, and sent in his name.
“Ask him to walk in.”
Prescott took a seat and made a quick survey of the man opposite.
“My name is Prescott, Mr. Barton. I am a barrister. I have come down to speak to you relative to some business you transacted a good many years since for Captain Bradshaw.”
The man gave a slight start, and his face grew visibly pale.
“I don’t think you acted quite on the square, so to speak, upon that occasion, Mr. Barton.”
He paused, but the detective did not speak.