A thin, sharp-looking person, pallid and black-haired, wearing a morning coat and striped trousers, must surely be Siddle, while a fourth, the youngest there, and of rather sporting guise, was apparently a farmer of a horse-breeding turn.
"Who is that fellow in the leggings ?" inquired the superintendent irrelevantly.

He was looking through the window, and Robinson considered that the question showed a lack of interest in his statement, though he dared not hint at such a thing.
"He's a Mr.Elkin, sir," he said.

"As I was saying--" "How does Mr.Elkin make a living ?" broke in the other.
"He breeds hacks and polo ponies," said Robinson, rather shortly.
"Ah, I thought so.

Well, go on with your story." Robinson was irritated, and justly so.

His superior had put him off his "line." He took it up again sharply, leaving out of court for the moment the various rills of evidence which, in his opinion, united into a swift-moving stream.
"The fact is, sir," he blurted out, "there is an uncommonly strong case against Mr.John Menzies Grant." "Phew!" whistled the superintendent.
"I think you'll agree with me, sir, when you hear what I've gathered about him one way and another." Robinson was sure of his audience now.