A conversation between Messrs. Stobell and Tredgold in the
High Street only made matters more complicated.
"Chalk always was fond of making mysteries of things," complained Mr.
Tredgold.
Mr. Stobell, whose habit was taciturn and ruminative, fixed his dull
brown eyes on the ground and thought it over. "I believe it's all my eye
and Betty Martin," he said, at length, quoting a saying which had been
used in his family as an expression of disbelief since the time of his
great-grandmother.
"He comes in to see me when I'm hard at work and drops hints," pursued
his friend. "When I stop to pick'em up, out he goes. Yesterday he came
in and asked me what I thought of a man who wouldn't break his word for
half a million. Half a million, mind you! I just asked him who it was,
and out he went again. He pops in and out of my office like a figure on
a cuckoo-clock."
[Illustration: "He pops in and out of my office like a figure on a
cuckoo-clock."]
Mr. Stobell relapsed into thought again, but no gleam of expression
disturbed the lines of his heavy face; Mr. Tredgold, whose sharp, alert
features bred more confidence in his own clients than those of other
people, waited impatiently.
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