“For further information,” said Mr. Follingsbee, rising and taking up his hat, “I must refer you to Mr. Grip, or Mr. Warburton.”
“The Chief looked closely at the illegible signature, and said: “I see; sharp rascal.””—[page 366].
And having finished his errand, Mr. Follingsbee made his adieu and withdrew.
When he was gone, the Chief sat gazing at the chair just vacated, and a curious smile crossed his lips.
“Follingsbee’s a clever lawyer,” he muttered; “maybe that’s why he is so poor a witness. There’s a stronger motive behind his friendly desire to warn me of poachers abroad. He was in a greater hurry to finish his errand than to begin it, and he was relieved when it was done. I wonder, now, why he didn’t ask me if there really was such a person as Augustus Grip!”