“You won’t charge Kimball?” Lomas signified an impatient negative. “Very well. You say you don’t let a man off because he’s in the Government. Suppose you had a prima facie case like this against a nobody. Suppose I brought you as good grounds for arresting Sandford. Wouldn’t you have him in the dock? On your conscience now!” Again Bell and Lomas consulted each other’s faces. “I wonder why you drag in Sandford?” said Lomas slowly. “He’s in it all right. I asked you a question.” “Well, if you insist. One might charge a man on a prima facie case, to hear his defence.” Reggie struck his hand on the table. “There it is! A man who is nobody--he can stand trial. Not a Cabinet Minister. Oh dear, no!” “My dear fellow, the world is what it is. You know very well that if I wanted to charge Kimball on this evidence it would be turned down. I couldn’t force the issue without a stronger case. Do have some sense of the practical.” Reggie smiled. “I’m not blaming you. I only want to rub it in.” “Thanks very much. We are to suspect Kimball, I suppose.” “Like the devil, and watch him.” “I see. Yes, I think we shall be quite justified in watching Mr. Kimball. But, my dear fellow, you are rather odd this morning. If you want Kimball watched, why the devil do you handle him so violently? You know, you almost accused him of the murder. Anything more likely to put him on his guard I can’t imagine.” “Yes, yes. I think I made him jump,” said Reggie, with satisfaction. “Quite intentional, Lomas, old thing. He’s on his guard all right. But he don’t know how little we know. I meant to put him in a funk. I want to see what a funk will make him do.” Lomas looked at him steadily. “For a very moral man,” he said, “you have a good deal of the devil about you.” “I think I ought to say, Mr. Fortune,” said Bell, “we’ve all been in a hurry to judge Mr. Kimball. I said things myself. And I do say he’s not a Christian man--an unbeliever, I’m afraid. But I had ought to say too, he lives a very clean life. Always has. Temperate, very quiet style, a thorough good master, generous to his employees, and always ready to come down handsome for a good cause.” “Who is Kimball, Bell?” said Reggie quietly. “Sir?” Bell stared. “He’s always been known, sir. Started in Liverpool on the Cotton Exchange. Went into rubber. Came to London. That’s his career. All quite open and straight.” “And we don’t know a damned thing about him.” “Well, really, Fortune, you’re rather exacting. You’re after his soul, I suppose,” said Lomas, with something like a sneer. “Who is Kimball?” Reggie insisted. “There’s two unknown quantities. Who is Kimball? Who is Sandford?” “I’m afraid you want the Day of Judgment, my dear fellow,” said Lomas. “‘Unto whom all hearts are open, all desires known’--that sort of thing. Well, we can’t ring up the Recording Angel from here. It’s a trunk call.”