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Whatever the scheme is, it is being worked in London, and van Heerden is the chief operator." He took down his hat and went out in search of Kitson, whom he found in the lobby of the hotel. James Kitson came toward him eagerly. "Have you news of Beale?" "He was at Kingston this morning," said McNorton, "with Parson Homo, but he had left.
As a matter of fact, I engaged her at his recommendation. You see, I was under an obligation to the doctor. He had ah attended me in my illness." That this was untrue McNorton knew. White was one of those financial shuttlecocks which shrewd moneylenders toss from one to the other.
"Pretty bad," said the other, "you will get nothing out of him before the morning. The doctors had to dope him to get him quiet, and he will be some time before he is right." He looked up at the other occupant of the room. "Well, Parson, you are helping Mr. Beale, I understand?" "Yes," said the other easily. "Returning to your old profession, I see," said McNorton.
"I have only the haziest information as to what it is all about, but somehow" McNorton knit his brows in a frown and was speaking half to himself "I seem to feel that it is a bad business a damnably bad business." He took up his hat from the table and walked to the door. "I don't know whether to say au revoir or good-bye," he said with twitching lips.
It was the top half of a telegraph form, the lower half had been torn away. "'To Belocity, London," Beale read aloud. "That's you," interrupted McNorton, and the other nodded. "'To Belocity, London," he read slowly. "'Am imprisoned at Deans " At this point the remainder of the message had been torn off. "Where is the rest?" said Beale. "That's the lot," replied McNorton grimly.
"Has it anything to do with the Green Rust?" asked the other jokingly. "A great deal to do with the Green Rust." "Well, I'll get along," said McNorton. "I will telephone the Kingston police to give you all the assistance possible, but I am afraid you will learn nothing from the tramp till the morning, and perhaps not then." He took his leave soon after.
White vigorously, "the syndicate was not registered. It was, so to speak, a private concern." "But the exploitation of Green Rust?" suggested the superintendent, and the man's face lost the last vestige of colour it possessed. "The Green Rust?" he faltered. "I have heard the phrase. I know nothing " "You know nothing, but suspect the worst," said McNorton. "Now I am going to speak plainly to you.
White protested he could offer no information. He recalled, not without a sinking of heart, a similar cross-examination on the previous day at the hands of McNorton. There were factories van Heerden had hinted as much but as to where they were located well, confessed Mr. White, he hadn't the slightest idea. "That's rubbish," said Beale roughly, "you know.
"I hope you get your money back." "Do you think there is any doubt?" demanded White, in consternation. "There is always a doubt about getting money back from syndicates," said McNorton cryptically. "Please don't go yet." Mr. White passed round the end of his desk and intercepted the detective with unexpected agility, taking, so to speak, the door out of his hands and closing it. "I am alarmed, Mr.
"Then do you remember that Milsom said that the code was not irredeemably lost and that van Heerden knew where it was. In default of finding the ticket he decided to burgle the pawnbroker's, and that burglary is going through to-night." "But he could have obtained a duplicate of the ticket," said McNorton. "How?" asked Beale quickly. "By going before a magistrate and swearing an affidavit."
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