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Kennedy," he rejoined, awed by Kennedy's reputation even in the full flood of his anger, "as sure as I am that I'd like to throw you down these steps!" The magic of Manton's name admitted us to the studio courtyard, and at once I was struck by the change since the day before. Now the tank was a dry, empty, shallow depression of concrete.
I gave the papers a cursory inspection, without disturbing them, hoping to catch some name or something which might prove to be a random clue, but I was less lucky than Kennedy had been in his casual look at Manton's desk the afternoon before. Still able to hear the valet at the telephone, I reached down and opened the top drawer of the desk. Here perhaps I might be more fortunate.
Now the girl was absent from her place in the little waiting room. Manton's door stood open. Without ceremony Kennedy led the way in and dropped down at the side of the promoter's huge mahogany desk. "I'm tired, Walter," he said. "Furthermore, I think this picture world of yours is a bedlam. We face a hard task." "How do you propose to go about things?" I asked.
Manton's car was a high-powered, expensive limousine, fitted inside with every luxury of which the mind of even a prima donna could conceive, painted a vivid yellow that must have made it an object of attention even on its familiar routes. It was quite characteristic of its owner, for Manton, as we learned, missed no chance to advertise himself.
I knew that at one time many fine interiors were actually taken in houses, to save expense. I was sorry that Kennedy should draw any conclusion from a fact which I thought was too well known to require explanation. Manton's answer, however, proved a distinct surprise to me. "Mr. Phelps asked us to use his library in this picture."
Peters, Manton's chauffeur, and I found a couple of horseshoes and we were throwing them most of the time." "How long was the machine alone here in the yard this morning?" "A couple of hours, maybe. I knew the old boiler was safe enough, and that if they wanted me they'd look over in McCann's." "Well," Kennedy extended his hand, "I thank you, and I won't forget you, McGroarty."
As soon as the chauffeur was out of earshot I faced Kennedy rather eagerly, to forestall him if he had arrived at the same conclusion as myself. "See! It's just as I thought yesterday!" "How's that, Walter?" "Werner! He rode out in that machine, but not back. In Manton's car he was worried all the time. He probably knew he had dropped the tube.
It was a long evening to her; she thought the hands of the clock had never before moved so slowly. At nine a bell called them all into Professor Manton's school-room, where he read a chapter from the Bible, and made a long prayer in a dull, monotonous tone, that set most of his hearers to nodding or indulging in half-suppressed gapes and yawns.
You'll find, too, that the crew are of my way of thinking." Manton's face flushed crimson, and, for a moment, he felt inclined to seize a handspike and fell the refractory second mate therewith; but the looks of a few of the men who were standing by and had overheard the conversation, convinced him that a violent course of procedure would do him injury.
"He's found a towel," Millard put in, an expression of half amusement on his face as he faced the promoter. "In some way it's a clue to the identity of the murderer, an infallible clue, he says. He found it in the washroom by our offices. Since Werner is dead, that points the finger of suspicion at you or me." Manton's jaw dropped.
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