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190
The Specimen Case

been out doing the work, you have been snoozing in the easy-chair."

"You scintillate to-day, positively," I laughed. "Well, touching your adventure—what sort of a place did you get to?"

He looked at me out of his pale eyes with dull curiosity.

"An ordinary money-changer's shop," he replied. "The fellow is a German. I saw him make sure that the secret marks were right—'secret marks,' my Peter, when every little josser on an office-stool knows 'em!—and he thumbed the top right corner with guileless faith. What about it?"

"Did you ever hear of a certain goose, Dunford?" I asked airily—"a certain goose, Dunford?"

I emphasised the point, for it was frequently my humour to hold up the heavy, unsuspecting man to the shafts of my derision solely for my own inward amusement.

"What goose?" he demanded, half inclined to be angry without knowing exactly why.

"It laid a golden egg," I replied. "Until its owner short-sightedly killed it. If you had a goose that laid a golden egg, would you kill it, Dunford?"

"Don't talk rot!" he said irritably.

I laughed good-humouredly. He was obviously uneasy at not being able to follow the delicate play of my mind, but I said no more.

I waited for a few hours, and then, leaving Dunford with an excuse, I sought out his German friend. He had a little shop just off the tram route, and, after the manner of his kind, he displayed his stock-in-trade behind his well-protected window. There I saw our note, and saw also that it was the only one of its sort.

There is a great deal in the air of approach before a