for you, I suppose—What is it you want to know?”
“Madden was here on Wednesday. Just what happened?”
“Yes, Mr. Madden came in on Wednesday. We hadn’t seen him for two years, and his coming caused quite a stir. He visited the safe deposit vaults and spent some time going through his box.”
“Was he alone?”
“No, he wasn’t,” the banker replied. “His secretary, Thorn, who is well known to us, was with him. Also a little, middle-aged man whom I don’t recall very clearly.”
“Ah, yes. He examined his safety deposit box. Was that all?”
The banker hesitated. “No. He had wired his office in New York to deposit a rather large sum of money to our credit with the Federal Reserve Bank—but I’d really rather not say any more.”
“You paid over to him that large sum of money?”
“I’m not saying we did. I’m afraid I’ve said too much already.”
“You’ve been very kind,” Eden replied. “I promise you won’t regret it Thank you very much.”
He and Bristol returned to the street. “Thanks for your help, Spike,” Eden remarked. “I’m leaving you here.”
“Cast off like an old coat,” complained Bristol. “How about lunch?”
“Sorry. Some other time. I must run along now. The station’s down here, isn’t it? I leave you to your climate.”
“Sour grapes,” returned Spike. “Don’t go home and get lost in the fog. So long.”
From the eleven
