It was a singular question, as if the speaker half suspected the truth, and Claude’s heart seemed to find a lodgment in his throat.
“What does the paper say?” cried Claude, a little irritated. “It records the death of the notorious George Richmond, doesn’t it?”
“It does.”
“That’s sufficient, I think. Do you want to see the—body?”
“My God, no!”
“Nor the burial certificate? They’ll probably hold a post mortem, but we’re safe all the same. It’s all right, I assure you. There’s no danger, but it took work.”
“I’m proud of you, Claude. Now, what about the papers?”
“I’ve got them, too.”
“Here?”
“Yes,” and Claude dived one hand into an inner pocket and drew forth a package, at sight of which Lamont’s eyes seemed to bulge from his head.