"Yes—but no," Trant suddenly recollected; "you have mentioned once or twice that Findlay is a collector of coins—a numismatist."
"The craziest in Chicago."
"Then if you'll drop me for a minute at Swift and Walton's curio shop in Randolph Street that will be enough."
Sheppard glanced at his young adviser wonderingly; and looked more wonderingly still when Trant came out from the curio shop jingling a handful of silver coins, which he showed quietly.
"They're silver florins of one of the early Swiss states," he exclaimed; "borrowed of Swift and Walton, by means of a deposit, and guaranteed to make a collector sit up and take notice. They'll get me an interview with Mr. Findlay, I hope, without the need of an introduction. So if you will point out the house to me and let me out a block or so from it, I will go in first."
"And what do you want me to do?" asked Sheppard, startled.
"Come in a few minutes later; meet him as you would naturally. Your brother's body has been found; tell him about it. You suspect young Tyler; tell him that also. Maybe he can help you. You need not recognize me until I see I want you; but my work, I trust, will be done before you get there."
"Enoch Findlay help me?" queried Sheppard in perplexity. "You mean help me to trace Neal's murderer. But it is you who said because, against all reason, you suspect Enoch, Mr. Trant, that we have
