"I don't. But what difference does it make? Her trustee had full power to sell them."
"But did he sell them? Is there a transfer in existence, or, rather, could Pudleigh or the Company produce it?"
"What do you mean? What are you driving at?" said Morton, somewhat puzzled.
I showed him Pudleigh's advertisement.
"What has this got to do with it?"
"One of the documents in that bag he wants so badly was that very transfer. In fact, here it is." And I drew it from my pocket and gave it to him.
He took it and looked through it, and said, "It's quite in order."
"Oh, quite," I said. "But suppose you were to dispute the sale of the shares, could he produce it?"
Morton rose and walked across the room looking exceedingly uncomfortable. "We shall have to give it back to him, I suppose," he said weakly.
"It isn't a case of we, it's a case of I," said I, taking up the transfer from his desk. "And I do not propose to give it back to him at all. It would be merely putting a premium on roguery."
"There is that point of view, of course," said Morton; and he looked out of the window, fidgeting on his feet.
"And it's good enough for me," said I. "In
