"It isn't that that I care so much about," said Old Spicer, quietly; "but I do hate to see a good case all muddled up."
"And so do I," exclaimed Stricket. "It makes me mad even now when I think of the way they managed such splendid cases as the Jennie Cramer, Rose Ambler, and half a dozen others like them."
"Did you hear who was going over to Stony Creek this morning?"
"Only Willett, so far as I could learn; and perhaps Medical Examiner Gaylord, of Branford."
"Well, I——"
"Hark! what's that? The outside door this time, eh?"
"You're right; he's come at last. Yes, that's George Morgan's footstep." Then, as some one knocked at the door of the room, "Come in, George," and a young man of some twenty-six or twenty-seven years entered.
"I'm glad to see you, George," continued the old detective, as the new-comer sank wearily into an arm-chair; "but I should have been better pleased to have welcomed you half an hour earlier."
"Yes," exclaimed Seth Stricket, quickly; "for goodness' sake, what's kept you, George?"
"My excuse for not being on time is a good one," responded George Morgan, gravely. "If it were not so, I think you both know me well enough to believe I wouldn't have occasion to offer any."