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Updated: June 20, 2025
"All the time you like," Lerton replied. That was not like the man, Jim Farland knew. Lerton was the sort to try to make himself important, the always-busy man who had no time for anybody less than a millionaire. Farland smiled and sat down in a chair at one end of the desk. He twisted his hat in his hands, looked across at George Lerton, cleared his throat, and spoke.
He could guess that Prale had engaged Jim Farland to work on this case and clear him of the charge of having murdered Rufus Shepley. After a time the boy ushered him into the private office. George Lerton was sitting behind a gigantic mahogany desk, looking very much the prosperous man of business. "Well, Farland, this is a pleasure!" Lerton exclaimed. "Haven't seen you for ages. How's business?"
"Yes. I have received several anonymous notes, some on board ship and some since landing, that say something about retribution about to be visited upon me." "Why?" "I don't know, captain. I never did anything in my life to merit such retribution. I am sure of that." "What time was it when you parted from Lerton?" "It must have been about nine thirty or a quarter to ten." "Go to your hotel then?"
Has that cousin of mine been acting up again, or are you going to pester me with a lot of fool questions about things I don't know anything about?" Farland had seated himself in the chair at the end of the desk, within four feet of George Lerton. He had tossed his hat to a table and twisted the cigar into one corner of his mouth. Now he stared Lerton straight in the eyes.
You were ambitious, too always said that some day you would be worth a million dollars. "Step by step, you went up the ladder. Then it happened that your cousin, George Lerton, obtained a position in the same office after his father's death.
"I always thought that you were a good detective, Jim, but I am beginning to have doubts now," he said. "What has put such an idea into your head?" "Facts gathered and welded together," Farland told him. "Don't try to carry out the bluff any longer, Lerton. And don't call me Jim. I never allow murderers to get familiar with me!" "This has gone far enough!" the broker exclaimed.
I may need you in a hurry." "I'll be on hand," Murk promised. Sidney Prale went down in the elevator, Murk going down in the same car. Prale lounged about the lobby for a time, and Murk made himself as inconspicuous as possible in a corner. Prale believed, as Farland had intimated, that he was being followed and watched, possibly by the orders of George Lerton, his cousin.
"I can't threaten a woman, but I can pummel a man; and if I meet George Lerton again, I am liable to forget what Jim Farland told me and use my own methods." He walked on through the tiny ravine. He came to a cross path, and a man lurched down it and against him. "Beg pardon!" Prale murmured. "Wonder you wouldn't look where you're going!" the other exclaimed.
"We are playing a double game, remember trying to solve this enemy business, and at the same time trying to clear you of a murder charge. If any of those persons get the idea that we are unduly interested in them, we may not have such an easy time of it." "I understand that, of course." "Let me tell you a few more things, Sid. I saw Lerton talking to Miss Gilbert on the street.
Then he hurried into the office building, went to the elevator nearest the entrance, and ascended to the floor where George Lerton had his suite of offices. The office boy stepped to the railing. "Mr. Lerton busy?" Farland asked. "He is alone in his private office, sir," said the boy, who regarded the detective with admiration and awe.
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