With a quick motion, he went to the telephone and called for Greenleaf.
"Chief, are you still holding Perry?"
"Sure, I'm holding him. I'll continue to hold him for some time, I'm thinking. His story don't suit me. He says——"
"All right. Ill get that from you when I see you this afternoon. In the meantime, I wish you'd have his finger nails carefully cleaned. I want——"
But the request had instantly overwhelmed Greenleaf.
"What!" he yelled. "Clean his finger nails!"
"Yes," Bristow continued smoothly, disregarding the other's evident distaste and surprise. "If I were down there, I'd do it myself. In fact, it would be better for you to do it. Don't leave it to some careless subordinate."
The chief laughed his sarcasm.
"You know," this still with laughter, "we Southerners are none too strong on acting as manicures to these coloured folks."
"It's absolutely necessary," was the insistent answer. "And, when you do clean them, save every bit of dirt thus obtained. Now, will you do it?"