"Not if the suitcase you squinted for was a brown sole leather—" I was beginning, but the Kite cut in on me.
"I seen that one you had. That wasn't it. His was a brand new one, black and shiny."
Suddenly I couldn't taste my cigar at all.
"Know what time to-day he left here?" I asked.
"It wasn't to-day. 'Twas yestiddy. About one o'clock."
As I plunged for the door I was conscious of his hoarse whisper following me,
"What's Steve done, Jerry? What d'ye want him for?"
I catapulted across the sidewalk and into the machine.
"Get me to my office as fast as you can, Worth," I exclaimed. "Hit Bush Street—and rush it."