“Am I to speak before him?” asked Morris, disregarding these severe expressions.
“He has been present throughout,” said Pitman. “He opened the barrel; your guilty secret is already known to him, as well as to your Maker and myself.”
“Well, then,” said Morris, “what have you done with the money?”
“I know nothing about any money,” said Pitman.
“You needn’t try that on,” said Morris. “I have tracked you down; you came to the station sacrilegiously disguised as a clergyman, procured my barrel, opened it, rifled the body, and cashed the bill. I have been to the bank, I tell you! I have followed you step by step, and your denials are childish and absurd.”
“Come, come, Morris, keep your temper,” said Mr. Appleby.
“Michael!” cried Morris, “Michael here too!”
“Here too,” echoed the lawyer; “here and everywhere, my good fellow; every step you take is counted; trained detectives follow you like your shadow; they report to me every three-quarters of an hour; no expense is spared.”
Morris’s face took on a hue of dirty grey. “Well, I don’t care; I have the less reserve to keep,” he cried. “That man cashed my bill; it’s a theft, and I want the money back.”
“Do you think I would lie to you, Morris?” asked Michael.