“Oh, yes. Kimball thinks very well of him. I pointed out to Kimball that on the facts we were bound to suspect Sandford, and he was quite huffy about it—said he had the highest opinion of Sandford, asked what evidence I had, and so on.”
“Very good and proper, and even intelligent. My respects to H. Kimball. What evidence have you, Lomas, old thing?”
“You just put the case yourself,” said Lomas, with some irritation. “Only Kimball and Sandford were in the secret. It’s impossible in the nature of things Kimball should have sold it. Remains Sandford.”
“Oh, Peter! That’s not evidence, that’s an argument.”
“I know, confound you. But there is evidence of a sort. One of Sandford’s friends is a young fellow called Walkden, and he’s in one of the firms which have been running the Stock Exchange boom.”
“It’s queer,” said Reggie, and lit a pipe. “But it wouldn’t hang a yellow dog.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Lomas cried. “We have nothing to act on, and they’re all cursing me because we haven’t!”
“Meaning Kimball?”
“Kimball—Kimball’s calling twice a day to know how the case is going on, please. But the whole Government’s on it now. Minutes from the Home Secretary—bitter mems. from the Prime Minister. They want a scapegoat, of course. Governments do.”
“Find us some one to hang or we’ll hang you?”