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Stillwater had decorated the walls of his parlour, plunged a hand into some deep recess in his overcoat and brought out an oblong case which reminded Triffitt of nothing so much as those Morocco or Russian-leather affairs in which a knife, a fork, and a spoon repose on padded blue satin and form an elegant present to a newly-born infant. Mr.
Stick to Triffitt, my son, and Triffitt'll see you all serene!" "Right-oh!" said Carver. "I'm on. Well, and what am I to do, first?" "Two things," responded Triffitt. "One of 'em's easy, and can be done at once. Get me diplomatically this man Burchill's, or Bentham's, present address. You know some Magnet chaps get it out of them.
Triffitt suddenly grasped his companion's shoulder, twisting him round towards the door. His lips emitted a warning to silence; his eyes signalled Carver to look. Burchill came out of the doors, closely followed by Dimambro. Jauntily swinging his walking-cane he began to descend, affecting utter unconsciousness of the presence of Cox-Raythwaite, Selwood, and Davidge.
"It'll mean money," observed Carver. "Never mind," said Triffitt, confident as ever. "If it comes off all right with our boss, you needn't bother about money, my son! Now let's be going Fleet Street way, and I'll meet you tonight at the usual say six o'clock."
"I want some good, hot stuff now!" "Then you'll have to find it for yourself, very soon," remarked Carver. "Take my tip you'll get nothing from the police." Triffitt was well aware of that. He had talked to two or three police officials and detectives that morning, and had found them singularly elusive and uncommunicative.
And I give you my word that if you want something to fill you up during the day, something to tide over the weary wait between breakfast and dinner, a fat muffin with a thick slice of ham is the best thing I know." "I don't want anything to fill me up," grunted Triffitt. "I want something cheering at present.
"No need," Triffitt hastened to say. "I've a cold meat pie, uncut, and plenty of bread, and cheese. And there's bottled ale, and whisky, and I'll get you some supper ready at once. So" he went on, as he began to bustle about "you did find something?" Davidge rubbed his hands and winked first at Milsey and then at Triffitt. "Wait till tomorrow!" he said.
"As certain as that I'm myself!" answered Triffitt. "Couldn't mistake him even if it is nine years ago. It's true I was only a nipper then sixteen or so but I'd all my wits about me, and I was so taken with him in the dock, and with his theatrical bearing there he's a fine hand at posing that I couldn't forget or mistake him. Oh, he's the man! I've often wondered what had become of him."
"Leave it in its natural state that is to say, cold split it in half put between the halves a thick, generous slice of that cold ham I see on your counter, and produce it with a pot of fresh and very hot China tea. That's all." "Plenty too, I should think!" muttered Triffitt. "Fond of indigestion, Carver?" "I don't think you've ever been in Yorkshire, have you, Triffitt?" asked Mr.
"That hasn't quite struck me," replied Triffitt. "How is it just as obvious?" "Because whoever went to Portman Square went in old Herapath's fur-trimmed coat and his slouch hat, and the fur trimmed coat and slouch hat were found in the office," answered Carver. "It's absolutely plain, that. I put it like this.
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