"I could have shot him as he sat there, facing me before his desk—but I did not."
Shattuck was talking calmly now, and earnestly, though underneath there was a depth of passion.
"Then what?" demanded Doyle, as though fearful that something might even yet arise to stop the story.
"I took one of those things, those beans that Kennedy has been talking about," he answered, pointing at the bean Kennedy was still holding in his hand.
"Where did you get it?"
"In Africa, of course," he hastened. "Where else?"
"Have you any more?" demanded Doyle.
"Yes—I think so," came back quickly. "I may have used the last one, though—or rather two, that is. You see, I must have dropped one and lost it. Then I must have forgotten about it in the excitement—that one Kennedy has."
"I see," nodded Doyle. "Always there is some loophole you people leave open, some place where the cleverest of you fall down and get caught."
Shattuck suppressed a quick retort that was on his lips.