Montague listened, half dazed, and feeling as if the ground he stood on were caving beneath his feet.
“What do you know about those who brought you this case?” asked his companion, suddenly.
“Not much,” he said weakly.
Harvey hesitated a moment. “Understand me, please,” he said. “I’ve no wish to pry into your affairs, and if you don’t care to say any more, I’ll understand it perfectly. But I’ve heard it said that the man who started the thing was Ellis.”
Montague, in his turn, hesitated; then he said, “That is correct—between you and me.”
“Very good,” said Harvey, “and that is what made me suspicious. Do you know anything about Ellis?”
“I didn’t,” said the other. “I’ve heard a little since.”
“I can fancy so,” said Harvey. “And I can tell you that Ellis is mixed up in life-insurance matters in all sorts of dubious ways. It seems to me that you have reason to be most careful where you follow him.”
Montague sat with his hands clenched and his brows knitted. His friend’s talk had been like a flash of lightning; it revealed huge menacing forms in the darkness about him. All the structure of his hopes seemed to be tottering; his case, that he had worked so hard over—his fifty thousand dollars that he had been so proud of! Could it be that he had been tricked, and had made a fool of himself?
“How in the world am I to know?” he cried.