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Updated: June 12, 2025
It was in the line of his duties to drop in and ask whether the promoter's clothes needed any attention for the next day. He discovered after he was in the living-room that Shibo was at his heels. They found Cunningham trussed up to a chair in the smaller room. He was unconscious, evidently from a blow in the head. The first impulse of Horikawa had been to free him and carry him to the bedroom.
Cunningham's eyelids flickered. There was a bottle of chloroform on the desk. The promoter had recently suffered pleurisy pains and had been advised by his doctor to hold a little of the drug against the place where they caught him most sharply. Shibo snatched up the bottle, drenched a handkerchief with some of its contents, and dropped the handkerchief over the wounded man's face.
A drawer was open within reach of Cunningham's hand. In it lay an automatic pistol The two men were about to hurry away. Shibo turned at the door. To his dismay he saw that the handkerchief had slipped from Cunningham's face and the man was looking at him. He had recovered consciousness. Cunningham's eyes condemned him to death. In their steely depths there was a gleam of triumph.
"Thought mebbe the man that killed my uncle slipped in here." "I hear you talk. I come in. You no business here." "True enough, Shibo. But we're not burglars an' we're here. Lucky we are too. We've found somethin'." "Mr. Jennings he in Chicago. He no like you here." "I want to show you somethin', Shibo. Come." Kirby led the way into the bedroom.
"He had us right not only me, but Jack and Phyllis, too. I couldn't let him drag her into it. The day you saw me with the strained tendon I had been with him and Horikawa in the apartment next to the one Uncle James rented. We quarreled. I got furious and caught Shibo by the throat to shake the little scoundrel. He gave my arm some kind of a jiu-jitsu twist. He was at me every day.
Shibo moved the sprinkler to another part of the lawn. Kirby followed him. He had a capacity for patience. "Did Mr. Hull ask you not to tell about him?" Shibo said nothing, but he said it with indignant eloquence. "Did he give you money not to tell? I don't want to go to the police with this if I can help it, Shibo. Better come through to me." "You go police an' say I know who make Mr.
"Yes, I've got over the nausea, thanks, Shibo." James turned to the others. "Shibo was at the foot of the stairs when I caught my heel. He gathered up the pieces. I guess I was all in, wasn't I, Shibo?" The Japanese nodded agreement. "You heap sick for minute." "I've been worrying a good deal about this business of Uncle James, I suppose. Anyhow, I've had two or three dizzy spells lately.
Shibo looked at his countryman without a muscle of his impassive face twitching. "Some one killum plenty dead," he said evenly. "Quite plenty," Kirby agreed, watching his imperturbable Oriental face. The cattleman admitted to himself that what he did not know about Japanese habits of mind would fill a great many books. Cole grinned whimsically at his friend.
"I'm not devilin' you. I'm tellin' you to come through with what you know, or you'll sure get in trouble. There's a witness against you. When he tells what he saw " "Shibo?" The word burst from the man's lips in spite of him. Kirby did not bat a surprised eye. He went on quietly. "I'll not say who. Except this. Shibo is not the only one who can tell enough to put you on trial for your life.
It was too late to get away by the door. They slipped through the window to the fire escape and from it to the window of the adjoining apartment. Horikawa, still sick with fear, stumbled against the rail as he clambered over it and cut his face badly. Shibo volunteered to go downstairs and get him some sticking plaster.
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