Walton smiled triumphantly. “Perhaps not; but I know you, Marsh,” he said, with his hand still on the man’s arm.
“This is the second time you have called me by that name. My name is not Marsh. Pardon me if I say good-morning,” said the other in perfectly modulated tones, and made a movement as if to continue on his way.
But Walton was not to be shaken off so lightly. “Wait a minute,” he said, and his voice was as pleasant and his manner as polite as that of the man whom he was addressing. “Perhaps when I tell you that I am Superintendent of Police Walton, who was chief of the detective bureau when we last met, you may remember me.”
“My dear sir, this is incomprehensible. I never had the pleasure of meeting you before, and, as I have to attend a very important meeting of the directors of my bank I must beg to be excused. If you really are the chief of police, I think, instead of wasting your time with reputable business men, you could better afford to devote a little of your leisure to finding the murderer of my dear old friend, Lawrence Marchburn.”
“You were acquainted with Mr. Marchburn?”
“Sir, I decline to submit to this impertinence any longer. If you attempt to stop me further I shall call an officer.”
“I think not,” said Walton, with a smile. “You are going with me to headquarters, or I will accompany you to your bank; which do you prefer?”
“In two minutes I could show you what a fool you are making of yourself; but I prefer to teach you a lesson. I submit to this indignity in the interest of good government.”
“All right, Marsh; I see you are the same old Chesterfield,—just as smooth as ever. You’ve no objection if we ride, I suppose?” and Walton hailed a passing cab. As they jogged up town both men remained silent. Turning a corner, the cab gave a sudden lurch, the superintendent’s hand in some mysterious manner caught in his prisoner’s whiskers, and they came away from his face. The two men looked one another squarely in the eye. Marsh was the first to speak. “You’re a nervy one, superintendent,” he said. “What do you want me for? I’m living straight.”
“I’m glad to hear it, but I want to have a quiet little talk with you; besides, I heard you were dead.”