MR. ELTHORNE AT WORKAt the hour he had mentioned Allingham walked into Elthorne’s office in the City and sent in his card. After a brief wait he was shown into a room in which there were two men. One—Elthorne presumably—sat at a desk; the other, a much younger man with an obviously filial resemblance, stood with his back to the fire, his hands in his trousers pockets.
Elthorne received Allingham as one smitten by a common misfortune.
“You’ve come about poor Mr. Cardwell, of course. What a dreadful affair! To think that he went straight from my presence to his death. It has been a great shock to me, as you can imagine. Dreadful! Dreadful!”
He had risen to shake hands with the visitor. Now he turned and introduced the young man by the fire: “My son and partner, Mr. George Elthorne,” at th
