"You couldn't see your way, then, sir," the man continued doggedly, "to tell me where I could find Mr. Morrison himself?"
"No, I couldn't," Laverick decided. "Even if I knew exactly where he was--and I'm not admitting that--I couldn't put you in touch with him unless I knew what your business was."
The man's eyes gleamed. He was a typical waiter--pasty-faced, unwholesome-looking--but he had small eyes of a greenish cast, and they were expressive.
"I think, sir," he said, "you've some idea yourself, then, that Mr. Morrison has been getting into a bit of trouble."
"We won't discuss that," Laverick answered. "You must either go away--it's past nine o'clock and I haven't had my dinner yet--or you must treat me as you would Mr. Morrison."
The man looked upon the carpet for several moments.
"Very well, sir," he said, "there's no great reason why I should put myself out about this at all. The only thing is--"
He hesitated.
"Well, go on," Laverick said encouragingly.
"I think," the man continued, "that Mr. Morrison--knowing, as I well do, sir, the sort of gent he is--would be more likely to talk common sense with me about this matter than you, sir."
"I'll imagine I'm Morrison, for the moment," Laverick said smiling, "especially as I'm acting for him."
The man looked around the room. The door behind had been left ajar. He stepped backward and closed it.
"You'll pardon the liberty, sir," he said, "but this is a serious matter I'm going to speak about. I'll just tell you a little thing and you can form your own conclusions. Last night we was open late at the 'Black Post.' We keep open, sir, as you know, when you gentlemen at the Stock Exchange are busy. About nine o'clock there was a strange customer came in. He had two drinks and he sat as though he were waiting. In about 'arf-an-hour another gent came in, and they went into a corner together and seemed to be doing some sort of business. Anyways, there was papers passed between them. I was fairly busy about then, as there were one or two more customers in the place, but I noticed these two talking together, and I noticed the dark gentleman leave. The others went out a few minutes afterwards, and the gent who had come first was alone in the place. He sat in the corner and he had a pocket-book on the table before him. I had a sort of casual glance at it when I brought him a drink, and it seemed to me that it was full of bank-notes. He sat there just like a man extra deep in thought. Just after eleven, in came Mr. Morrison. I could see he was rare and put out, for he was white, and shaking all over. 'Give me a drink, Jim,' he said,--'a big brandy and soda, big as you make 'em."'