Chapter 11

"Not bad," said the other carelessly. He pointed to a picture. "That's a genuine Corot. My father paid three hundred pounds for it, and it's probably worth three thousand today." "Your father was well off, was he, Mr. Moran?" Moran looked at him quickly. "He had money. Why do you ask? You don't imagine I could have furnished a flat like this on a thousand a year, do you?" His eyes twinkled. "Or has it occurred to you that this is part of my illicit gains--moneys pinched from the bank?" "I hope," said Surefoot Smith…