here it is at last under my hand in specie; and I mean to pull you through. Do you hear that?—I mean to pull you through. Let me see: it's a long time since I have had what I call a genuine holiday; I'll send an excuse to-morrow to the office. We had best be lively,' he added significantly; 'for we must not spoil the market for the other man.'
'What do you mean?' enquired Pitman. 'What other man? The inspector of police?'
'Damn the inspector of police!' remarked his companion. 'If you won't take the short cut and bury this in your back garden, we must find someone who will bury it in his. We must place the affair, in short, in the hands of someone with fewer scruples and more resources.'
'A private detective, perhaps?' suggested Pitman.
'There are times when you fill me with pity,' observed the lawyer. 'By the way, Pitman,' he added in another key, 'I have always regretted that you have no piano in this den of yours. Even if you don't play yourself, your friends might like to entertain themselves with a little music while you were mudding.'
'I shall get one at once if you like,' said Pitman nervously, anxious to please. 'I play the fiddle a little as it is.'
