THE BRASS BOWL
a door slammed below stairs took him to the hall in an instant. Maitland's Panama was hanging on the hat-rack, Maitland's collection of walking-sticks bristled in a stand beneath it. Anisty appropriated the former and chose one of the latter. "Fair exchange," he considered with a harsh laugh. "After all, he loses nothing … but the jewels."
He was out and at the foot of the stairs just as O'Hagan reached the ground floor from the basement.
"Ah, O'Hagan!" The assumption of Maitland's ironic drawl was impeccable. O'Hagan no more questioned it than he questioned his own sanity. "Here, send this wire at once, please; and," pressing a coin into the ready palm, "keep the change. I was hurried and didn't bother to call you. And, I say, O'Hagan!" from the outer door:
"Yissor."
"If that fellow Snaith ever calls again, I'm not at home."
"Very good, sor."
Anisty permitted himself the slightest of smiles,
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