He came last to the breast-pocket of the coat; in it were the wallet and
one letter--the letter that had brought Harleston here.
"It caught you!" Crenshaw smiled. "There's no bait like a pretty woman!"
Harleston raised his eyebrows and shrugged his answer.
"And a rather neat trap, wasn't it--we're very much pleased with it."
"You'll not be pleased with what it produces," Harleston smiled.
"It has produced you," the other mocked; "that's quite some production,
don't you think? And now, as this letter has served its purpose, I'll
take the liberty of destroying it," tearing it into bits and putting the
bits in his pockets, "lest one of us be liable for forgery. Now for the
pocket-book; you found something in mine, you may remember, Mr.
Harleston."
Harleston gave a faint chuckle. They would find nothing in his
pocket-book but some visiting and membership cards, a couple of
addresses and a few yellow-backs and silver certificates.
"The letter doesn't seem to be there--which I much regret, but these
visiting cards may be useful in our business; with your permission I'll
take them. Thank you, Mr. Harleston."
He folded the book and returned it to Harleston's pocket.
"I might have looked in your shoes, or done something disagreeable--I
believe I even promised to smash your face when I got the
opportunity--but I'm better disposed now.
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