"Let me give him five thousand dollars for it," proposed Henry impulsively. "I like to be generous."
"With other people's money? There are a lot like you." Scanlon's tone was dry. "All right, five thousand. Ten thousand if he holds us up. We've got to have it, you know."
"I don't believe in hold-ups," declared Henry, with a clamping of his lips. "I wouldn't encourage even one of my vets in 'em. Two thousand is premium enough. I'll see him tomorrow afternoon. The next day you can have your deed."
"That will be making it snappy," declared Scanlon with approving emphasis; then as Henry clamped the blueprint down with a paper weight, the Chief Counsel hitched his chair closer. His manner became mysterious and intimate; his voice was lowered significantly.
"As a matter of fact, just what did happen last night, Henry?"
Harrington told him; quite in detail, up to about two minutes before the blow—after that with voids, watching his expression narrowly.
Scanlon listened avidly, yet his only question, penetratingly put, was: "And when you got back to the place there wasn't a clue? . . . Not the sign of a clue?"
"Not one that I could mention," declared Henry. "Unless—by the way, who is this Count Eckstrom that turned up here yesterday and begins running around with Miss Boland right away? Have him looked up for me, will you? Have him looked up for a criminal record through your intelligence department."
Scanlon's mouth fell open. "Criminal record! An importation of Billie's with a criminal record?"
"Keep it dark but look him up," adjured Henry.
