at a little distance from the house, and made a cool retreat from the blaze of the midday sun.
Mr. Bunner seemed to be in no hurry to get out the car. He offered Trent a cigar, which was accepted, and for the first time lit his own. Then he seated himself on the footboard of the car, his thin hands clasped between his knees, and looked keenly at the other.
'See here, Mr. Trent,' he said, after a few moments. 'There are some things I can tell you that may be useful to you. I know your record. You are a smart man, and I like dealing with smart men. I don't know if I have that detective sized up right, but he strikes me as a mutt. I would answer any questions he had the gumption to ask me–I have done so, in fact–but I don't feel encouraged to give him any notions of mine without his asking. See?'
Trent nodded. 'That is a feeling many people have in the presence of our police,' he said. 'It's the official manner, I suppose. But let me tell you, Murch is anything but what you think. He is one of the shrewdest officers in Europe. He is not very quick with
