"Well, you see, I didn't expect that the box containing our magnifying glasses and camera for taking photographs of fingerprints and things of that sort, you know, will arrive before then, and it's no use working without your tools, is it? Superintendent said he'd ship it down to us either to-night or the first thing in the morning, and he's pretty prompt about such things."
"So then, of course—— To-morrow, eh? I suppose you haven't formed any opinion regarding the genesis of the case, Mr. Headland?"
"The which, sir?"
"The genesis, the start, the beginning, the cause."
"Oh! I see. No, I haven't made up my mind so set that it ain't liable to be changed. I never was one of them pig-headed sort that gets an idea and then can't be shook off it. I've formed a sort of general notion regarding it, you know, but, as I say, nothing fixed."
"I see. Would it be too much to ask what the 'general notion' is?"
"Why, it'll be just what that dead chap—the one that was killed last night—called it: a case of hanky-panky. Somebody is engineering the business. For a purpose, you know. Depreciating land values for the sake of getting hold of that piece of property the cement company wants to get from the duke."
Mr. Overton stopped short.
"I hadn't thought of that!" he declared. And it was clear enough from the manner in which the blood drained out of his face, and then came rushing back again, that he never had.
"Hadn't you?" said Cleek, with a slight swagger. "Lord, I did—the first thing!"