"Very well, then." Windsor produced a cigar and mouthed it, unlighted. "Mr. Slosson, there's something I'd like to ask you myself. A check for five thousand dollars was made out to you by Consolidated Securities on the eighth day of April, Saturday last—"
"It was made out on—" The intervention of Williams was swiftly checked.
"Be quiet, please!" cut in Windsor curtly. "I'm asking this question."
Williams sat back in his chair, his furtive eyes filled with uneasiness. Windsor looked again at Slosson, who was frowning suspiciously. Armstrong and Dorns, equally puzzled to understand what Tom Windsor was driving at, awaited some clue.
"This check was made out to you on April eighth. I'd like you to tell me why it was given you—for what service."
Slosson was obviously doing some quick thinking. Windsor took from the desk the two checks and idly fingered them, as though the discrepancy in his dates were of no moment. Slosson darted a look at his partner, then made response with a shrug.
"Why, we put over a deal in the stock of a new company for Consolidated, and those checks were given in payment for our services."
"I see," said Windsor, and nodded. He regarded Slosson, a reflective look in his clear gaze. "Mr. Williams has already given us the details of the affair. You see, our friend Armstrong, here, suspected that there might be some connection between my case against him and Lawrence Macgowan. We are endeavoring to disabuse his mind of that impression, and it is important that both you and Williams be absolutely frank and open with me."
Slosson threw Armstrong an angry, defiant glance.
"You'll not get away with any of your fancy bluffs around here—"