"
"I don't know anything about it, sir."
"You mean--(cough) you didn't write me an anonynious letter?"
"No, sir, I didn't."
"Then some friend of yours must have written it."
"I dunno that. It might have been some enemy of the police."
"Well, now, what's this about the Reds having an agent in my home?"
"Did the letter say that?"
"It did."
"Well, sir, that's putting it too strong. I ain't sure, it's just an
idea I've had. It'll need a lot of explaining."
"You're the man who discovered this plot, I understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, take a chair, there," said the banker. There was a chair near
the bedside, but it seemed to Peter too close to be respectful, so
he pulled it a little farther away, and sat down on the front six
inches of it, still holding his hat in his hands and twisting it
nervously. "Put down that hat," said the old man, irritably. So
Peter stuck the hat under his chair, and said: "I beg pardon, sir."
Section 52
The old plutocrat was feeble and sick, but his mind was all there,
and his eyes seemed to be boring Peter through. Peter realized that
he would have to be very careful--the least little slip would be
fatal here.
"Now, Gudge," the old man began, "I want you to tell me all about
it.
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