“Good God, no!” Hollister’s voice denoted shocked surprise. “John was the soul of honor in every relation of life.”
“Then,” Curtis drew a long breath, “it is up to us to locate the money and keep his memory stainless.”
“And locate his murderer,” added Hollister solemnly.
Curtis moved restlessly. “Did Frank Elliott give you further evidence to prove his statement regarding the ownership of that one hundred thousand dollars?” he asked.
“No. He is returning on Thursday and promised to bring several men with him to substantiate his statement,” replied the lawyer.
“Did he tell you their names?”
“No.” Observing Curtis’ dissatisfied frown, Hollister added hastily: “You must take into consideration that Elliott is in an embarrassing position.”
“How so?”
“He stated that that money is owned by certain men who pooled their funds to fight prohibition,” Hollister spoke more slowly. “In other words, they are trying to defeat the dry laws, and that is illegal. He and his friends can’t go to the courts to claim that money without getting themselves involved in trouble with the Federal Government.”
Curtis whistled softly. “So that is it,” he commented. “Suppose you ring up Western Union and send a night letter to your Chicago friend, Hollister, asking for a description of Frank Elliott and his present whereabouts.”