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So I'll not answer your question now; I'll allow it to stand until to-morrow night; and then I'll give it to you, compact and complete, with practical illustrations as I go along." On the following day, at about noon, Ashton-Kirk's big French car glided up to the curb before the Vale house.
It seemed impossible that this dapper little man with his peering, short-sighted eyes could be capable of any determined effort to escape the police when once driven into a corner. However, Pendleton had ample reason to respect Ashton-Kirk's judgment; and so when the latter deemed it necessary to approach with caution, he acted accordingly. They paused in front of the house.
Pendleton saw a look of satisfaction come into his friend's eyes. But there was no other evidence of anything unusual. "And now," said the investigator, quietly, "with regard to this other matter." "I find that there are two schools for mutes in this section," answered Fuller. "But both are some distance out of town." The satisfaction in Ashton-Kirk's singular eyes deepened. "Excellent," said he.
Pendleton's limbs were beginning to feel loggy and numb because of the chill and the continued inaction. He had ventured to stir them a little, and was wrapping the heavy blanket more closely about himself, when he felt Ashton-Kirk's hand upon his shoulder. "Hush-h-h!" said the investigator in a whisper.
And no sooner was the dinner completed than Ashton-Kirk's big French car was brought to the door and both young men got into it. "You've looked up the road to Cordova?" inquired Ashton-Kirk of the chauffeur. "Yes, sir," answered the man. "Very good road and almost parallel with the railroad. No trouble getting there by dark." "All right. Get there as soon as you can."
Pendleton spent the night at Ashton-Kirk's; and after breakfast he wandered into the library, a newspaper in his hand and an inquiring look on his face. The investigator was seated in his usual big chair, buried to the knees in newspapers, and making vigorous inroads upon the Greek tobacco.
"'Twas an officer, I think, who fought with faith, yes," smiling in recollection, "at the side of sorra the one less than Washington himself." Pendleton, listening with dwindling interest, saw Ashton-Kirk's hand clench, and saw a gleam shoot into his eyes. Then he saw him bend toward Tobin, his elbows on his knees, his clenched hands beneath his chin.
Pendleton noted Ashton-Kirk's dark eyes fixed steadfastly upon the man's face as though he desired to read the remainder from his expression. "There is one of them," continued the investigator, "whom perhaps you have noticed. He's rather a small man, and wears thick glasses. He also dresses very carefully, and he wears a silk hat." "Oh, yes," said the conductor, "I know him.
The evening papers were glaring with the news from Cordova by the time the two friends were once more alone in Ashton-Kirk's library. Pendleton seemed to be pondering. "I say," said he, at last, "was it Morris or Spatola who remained at Hume's the night of the murder?" "I spoke to Spatola about that," answered Ashton-Kirk.
Then he lowered his voice and jerked his fat thumb toward the newcomer secretly, addressing Pendleton: "Clever! Just full of it." Sime listened to Ashton-Kirk's question attentively. "Yes," he said, in answer, "we had some of that stuff lately. Sold well, too, considering the time of the year." He pulled open a drawer and took out a fat, canvas-covered book.
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