After dinner the financier was surprised when Furneaux approached, and tapped him professionally on the shoulder.
“A word with you outside,” he said.
Ingerman was irritated—perhaps slightly alarmed.
“Can’t we talk here?” he said, in that singularly melodious voice of his.
“Better not, but I shan’t detain you more than five minutes.”
“Anything my legal adviser might wish to hear?”
“Not from me. Tell him yourself afterwards, if you like.”
In the quiet street the detective suddenly linked arms with his companion. Probably he smiled sardonically when he felt a telltale quiver run through Ingerman’s lanky frame.
“You’ve brought down Norris, I see?” he began.
“Yes.”