"In Rome," says I. "The rheumatism got to his heart. He could see it comin' to him before he left. Poor old Pyramid!"
"Indeed?" says Steele. "And was Gordon—er—a friend of yours, may I ask?"
"One of my best," says I. "Know him, did you?"
Mr. Steele darts a quick glance at me. "Rather!" says he.
"Then there can't be so much myst'ry about this note, then," says I. "Maybe he's willed us a trinket or so. Friend of yours too, I expect?"
J. Bayard almost grins at that. "I have no good reason to doubt," says he, "that Pyramid Gordon hated me quite as thoroughly and actively as I disliked him."
"He was good at that too," says I. "Had a little run-in with him, did you?"
"One that lasted something like twenty years," says Steele.
"Oh!" says I. "Fluffs or finance?"