You see, I don't come much into contact with our
clerks. Reck does; but he's not here to-day. I fancy he had red hair."
"Gordon had reddish hair."
"You had better see Kimberly," said the solicitor, ringing a bell. "He is
our managing clerk, and knows everything."
A grey-haired, silent-looking man came in with stooping shoulders. Mr.
Kedge, without any circumlocution, asked whether he remembered any clerk
of the name of Gordon having been in the house. Mr. Kimberly responded by
saying that they never had one in the house of the name.
"Well, I thought not," observed the principal. "There was one had in for
a short time, you know, while Hopkins was ill. I forget his name."
"His name was Druitt, sir. We employed a man of the name of Gorton to do
some outdoor business for us at times," continued the managing clerk,
turning his eyes on the barrister; "but not lately."
"What sort of business?"
"Serving writs."
"Gorton is not Gordon," remarked Mr. Kedge, with legal acumen. "By the
way, Kimberly, I have heard nothing of Gorton lately. What has become of
him?"
"I have not the least idea, sir. We parted in a huff, so he wouldn't
perhaps be likely to come in my way again. Some business that he
mismanaged, if you remember, sir, down at Calne."
"When he arrested one man for another," laughed the lawyer, "and got
entangled in a coroner's inquest, and I don't know what all.
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