“Yes, from you,” affirmed Hooker. “Of course, I didn’t ask questions. I put him to work. He was a clever man. He’s now in charge of the conduit construction.”
“What is his name?”
“Elliot Nash. At least, that’s what he wanted me to call him.”
“Well, what’s the excitement? You look as if you’d received a ten-year sentence to the pen!”
“Well,” returned Hooker, leaning nearer the politician, his face working strangely in the yellow lamplight, “that’s just what I want to avoid. That’s why I called up Martin a minute ago. I wanted to be on the safe side.”
Sigsbee’s interest increased.
“Well, come out with the whole story,” he said. “I can stand for it. What’s wrong?”
“The inspector—Boyer—was here last night. I was—was ill. Couldn’t see him as usual. Nash happened around and checked over the books with him.”
Sigsbee was breathing faster now.
“Well, well, go on!”