We can find no
trace of the coiners, but we know the man who is shoving the stuff.'
'That ought to be sufficient,' I suggested.
'Yes, it should, but it hasn't proved so up to date. Now I came
tonight to see if you would do one of your French tricks for us, right
on the quiet.'
'What French trick, Monsieur Spenser Hale?' I inquired with some
asperity, forgetting for the moment that the man invariably became
impolite when he grew excited.
'No offence intended,' said this blundering officer, who really is a
good-natured fellow, but always puts his foot in it, and then
apologises. 'I want someone to go through a man's house without a
search warrant, spot the evidence, let me know, and then we'll rush
the place before he has time to hide his tracks.'
'Who is this man, and where does he live?'
'His name is Ralph Summertrees, and he lives in a very natty little
bijou residence, as the advertisements call it, situated in no less a
fashionable street than Park Lane.'
'I see. What has aroused your suspicions against him?'
'Well, you know, that's an expensive district to live in; it takes a
bit of money to do the trick. This Summertrees has no ostensible
business, yet every Friday he goes to the United Capital Bank in
Piccadilly, and deposits a bag of swag, usually all silver coin.
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