Brainard carefully put out all the lights on the lower floor and then mounted the stairs to the room above. There he found Farson smoking a cigarette before the open fire and staring straight before him, as if his mind was occupied with a novel set of ideas. At sight of Brainard a curious smile crossed his face, and he looked interrogatively at his employer.
“Well?” he murmured.
“They are a pretty pair of—I was going to say crooks. But I don’t think my friend Hollinger is exactly that—I hope not.”