"Why did you leave? Why go over to McCann's in business hours?"
"We'd worked until after midnight the night before. I had to open up early and so I figured I'd have my breakfast in the usual morning slack time—when nothing's doing."
"I see!" Kennedy studied the ground for several moments. "Do you suppose anyone could have left a package in there—a bomb, in other words?"
Wagnalls's eyes widened, but he shook his head. "I'd notice it, sir! If
I do say it, I'm neat. I generally notice if a can has been touched.
They don't often fool me."
"Well, has any regular stuff been brought to you to put away; anything which might have hidden an explosive?"
Again Wagnalls shook his head. "I put nothing away or give nothing out except on written order from Mr. Manton. Anything coming in is negative and it's in rolls, and I rehandle them because they're put away in the flat boxes. I'd know in a minute if a roll was phony."
"You're sure nothing special—"
"Holy Jehoshaphat!" interrupted Wagnalls. "I'd forgotten!" He faced Manton. "Remember that can of undeveloped stuff, a two-hundred roll?" He turned to Kennedy, explaining. "When negative's undeveloped we keep it in taped cans. Take off the tape and you spoil it—the light, you know. Mr. Manton sent down this can with a regular order, marking on it that some one had to come to watch it being developed—in about a week. Of course I didn't open the can or look in it. I put it up on top of a rack."
"When was this?"
"About four days ago—the day Miss Lamar was killed."