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 tomorrow 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 some

one who will bury it in his. We must place the affair, in short, in the

hands of some one 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.'

'I know you do,' said Michael; 'but what's the fiddle--above all as you

112

The Wrong Box