“Then I’ll stand the loss,” said Morris boldly. “I order you to abandon the search.” He was determined that no inquiry should be made.
“I beg your pardon,” returned Mr. Judkin, “but we have nothing to do with you in this matter, which is one between your uncle and ourselves. If he should take this opinion, and will either come here himself or let me see him in his sick-room——”
“Quite impossible,” cried Morris.
“Well, then, you see,” said Mr. Judkin, “how my hands are tied. The whole affair must go at once into the hands of the police.”
Morris mechanically folded the cheque and restored it to his pocket-book.
“Good-morning,” said he, and scrambled somehow out of the bank.
“I don’t know what they suspect,” he reflected; “I can’t make them out, their whole behaviour is thoroughly unbusiness-like. But it doesn’t matter; all’s up with everything. The money has been paid; the police are on the scent; in two hours that idiot Pitman will be nabbed—and the whole story of the dead body in the evening papers.”
If he could have heard what passed in the bank after his departure he would have been less alarmed, perhaps more mortified.
“That was a curious affair, Mr. Bell,” said Mr. Judkin.