"What did he say?"
"Oh, nothing much! That it was a sad thing, and so far there was no explanation of it. No more than that. Never mentioned it since."
Wedgwood considered matters awhile, in silence: Stainsby watched him steadily, as if endeavouring to gauge his thoughts.
"What's your notion, young man?" asked the detective suddenly. "Why do you come here to tell this?"
"I read all that Thomas told in the witness-box," answered Stainsby. "Why didn't he tell about meeting John the night before? Where was Thomas the night before? He set out to meet John. And then—Thomas comes into money by John's death! Six thousand pounds!"
"Do you know anything about Thomas Wraypoole's circumstances?" enquired Wedgwood. "His business, now?—is it a good one!"
"Not as good as it was when I first knew it," replied the apprentice. "Fallen off of late a good deal."
"He'd be glad of six thousand pounds, eh?" suggested Wedgwood.
"Sort that would be glad of anything in the money line!" answered Stainsby, with a knowing wink.
"Money-getter, eh?" said the detective.
