Читать книгу The Black онлайн

66 страница из 105

Hamon was writing letters when the detective was shown into the drawing-room. He rose and greeted the visitor effusively.

"Come right in, Marborne. I'm glad to see you. You got my letter?"

"Yes, I had it this morning," said Marborne, depositing his hat on the floor and seating himself carefully. "Three thousand pounds you lost, eh? I suppose you've got the numbers of the notes?"

"Yes, I have the numbers, but that won't worry him. You know how easy it is to pass stolen money; and when you're dealing with an expert like The Black, I don't think it's worth while building any hope of catching him through the notes."

Further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the servant with a large silver tray and the refreshment which was essential to Marborne's comfort.

"You're sure it was The Black?" asked the detective, when his host had carefully closed and locked the door behind the servant.

"Certain."

"Why didn't you report it to the local police?" asked Marborne curiously. "It would have been a simple matter to have got a search-warrant—you were staying with Lord Creith, and he's Chairman of the Quarter Sessions."