“I suppose I’ll have to spare you a few minutes,” said Laxton with more resignation than curiosity.
“In the first place, I want to ask if you have ever seen me before?”
Laxton looked at him with greater interest. The man’s brown face was eager, his eyes were keen, with a sparkle in them that hinted at determination.
“Well,” he said, “I can’t recollect it.”
“Would you be willing to swear to that?”
“Don’t know that I’d go quite so far; I don’t see why I should.”
Prescott took out a sheet of paper with some writing on it.
“Do you recognize that hand?”
“No,” said the agent decidedly. “It’s a bold style that one ought to notice, but I don’t think I’ve seen it.” Then he looked up sharply. “What you getting after?”
“I’ll explain in a minute. Let me say that I’ve examined the land sale record here, and have found a deal registered that you were concerned in. It was made in the name of Cyril Jernyngham.”