‘I believe I understand it now,’ he said, nodding familiarly; ‘that’s how you changed the bills up there.’
Tuppit was silent.
‘Well, I won’t ask any questions,’ the detective went on; ‘it is a family affair and to be settled on the quiet, and if the thing is genuine, it is no business of mine how it comes to be so. But that fellow who sent for me first meant mischief, although he fancied he humbugged me with his gammon about not going the entire length.’
‘He did mean mischief,’ said Tuppit, huskily.
‘He can’t manage it though. Now, what you have got to do is to let Mr Wrentham understand that if he doesn’t make a clean breast of it by to-morrow, I’m down on him, and you won’t have another chance of saving him.’
This information was given with good humour, but Tuppit was aware of the pleasant way Sergeant Dier had of conducting his business, and, having unconsciously betrayed himself, understood that further disguise was useless. So, looking uneasily at his pewter pot, he said:
‘I suppose you mean that if he gives up everything, he won’t be brought to trial.’
‘It is not for me to say that. You have had dealings with the people, and ought to know what they are likely to do. Of course, if there is no charge, there will be no trial.’
There was considerable significance in the smile and nod which accompanied the words, and it was clear to Tuppit that Sergeant Dier was now in the confidence of Mr Shield and Mr Beecham.
‘I have written on a bit of paper that I want him to meet me as soon as he can. He knows the place, and if he refuses to make things square after all the mercy that has been shown him, I will have nothing more to do with him.’