"Mr. Bangs?" repeated a red-nosed girl, in answer to his inquiry. "Got an
appointment?"
"No," said Quin; "but I've got a parcel that's to be delivered in
person."
The red-nosed one thereupon consulted the man at the next desk, and,
after some colloquy, conducted Quin to one of the small rooms at the rear
of the large one.
The next moment Quin found himself face to face with the stern-looking
personage whose mere appearance at the window a few minutes before had
had such a subduing effect on the crowd below.
As he listened to Quin's message he looked at him narrowly and
suspiciously with piercing black eyes that seemed intent on seeking out
the weakest spot of whatever they rested upon.
"When did Mr. Bartlett give you these letters?" he asked in a tone as
cold as the tinkle of ice against glass.
"I got 'em last night, sir."
"Where?"
"At his house, when I went to carry word about his mother's accident."
"Close that door back of you," said Mr. Bangs, with a jerk of his head;
then he went on, "So Mr. Bartlett was at home when you reached there last
night?"
"Oh, _yes_, sir!" Quin assured him with an emphasis that implied Mr.
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