Green laid his dead cigar on the edge of the desk and pulled his chair closer, clearing his throat as he did so.
"The case o' the 'Friends o' the Poor'," he announced, "first became known to the public about this time a year ago. Here we have the matter o' one Frederick Prentice." Green picked up the first clipping.
"Yes, I know all about that case," interrupted Forrester. "Prentice is an old friend of mine."
"Ah—h—h!" breathed Green, looking much impressed as he laid the clipping and a few others aside. "Maybe you knew this guy, too—Booth Warren, the banker?"
"Yes, I knew him very well," returned Forrester.
"Ah—h—h!" sighed Green, expressively. Never before had he floated into such an environment of millionaires.
"But," added Forrester, "I don't know the details of his case. In fact, I had not heard of his death."
Green cleared his throat once more.
"Booth Warren," he explained, referring to his notes and clippings, "was vice-president o' the La Salle National Bank. In July o' last year this criminal organization demanded twenty-five thousand dollars, which he refused to pay, placin' the matter in the hands o' the police." At this mention of the police Green gave Forrester a ponderous wink. Then he continued, "After ignorin' three notices, Warren was found by the roadside one mornin' just beyond Evanston. The police surgeon o' the Evanston Police Department could find no signs o' violence, or any evidence as to how the man had been killed. He said he would diagnoose the case as one o'—" Green paused a moment over the pronunciation of the word—"asphyxia."
Green thumbed over his clippings.