"Who?"
"Flitch—the dead man, you know."
"The man's name was Dunning, as you must have heard, and as the police discovered for themselves."
"Really, I must go to an aurist! I've got it into my head as Flitch."
"Confound you!" said Bullard, on the verge of a furious, crazy outbreak, "will you hold your tongue? I've business to think of. Lost a whole morning with that cursed inquest."
"All right, Mr. Bullard. Don't apologise."
There was no more talk till they reached the office. The clerks had gone.
Bullard led the way, not to his own private room, but to Lancaster's.
"Say what you've got to say quickly," he snapped.
"This," said Teddy, looking leisurely about him, "is surely not the room where it happened.—What's the matter, Mr. Bullard?"