Baldy Gammon drew forward in his chair and announced, with manifest satisfaction, together with a leer in his coal-black eyes.
“We’ve got ’im, Sir Edud, got ’im foul and dead to rights. In other words, Sir Edud, we’ve got ’im just where we wants ’im.”
“I already know that, Mr. Gammon,” returned Chadwick bluntly.
“You does?”
Baldy Gammon looked surprised, and Sir Edward Chadwick proceeded to explain.
“I have called on Nick Carter and learned how the game was played and the stumblingblock removed,” he said pointedly. “I thought it wise to cover my tracks by seeing this American detective without delay. He does not suspect me, nor will he, now, and though he is at work on the case, he frankly admitted that he is all in the dark.”
“The which is a werry good place for ’im to be, Sir Edud,” Gammon dryly vouchsafed. “Don’t ’e know, then, as ’ow you ’ave been ’ere for nearly a week?”
“He knows nothing about me, Mr. Gammon, except what I saw fit to tell him.”
“Well, it’s safe to say, Sir Edud, as ’ow you’d tell ’im nothink worth knowin,” said Gammon, with a grin.
“Come to the point,” frowned Chadwick. “I did not employ you to comment upon my sagacity.”