“Thank you, sir. You’re a brick. No fear of me meltin’ this little lot. The missus will be on ’em like a bird w’en I tell her.” And the man spat upon the coins with evident relish as he handled them.
“One word more,” said Bruce. “Where was this man tried?”
“At the West London Police Court.”
“You can get me his real name and post it to me?”
“Sure, sir. Anyway, I’ll try.”
“I am greatly obliged to you.”
“An’ ’as my yarn bin of any use to you, sir?”
“The greatest. It has solved a puzzle. However, I will see you again. Good-bye. Don’t forget to write.”
“Cornhill is the direct line from Leadenhall Street,” mused Claude, when he was alone. “Any one coming to Sloane Square from Dodge & Co.’s office would pass through it. Upon my word, things look very black against Mensmore. Yet I cannot believe it.”