“A score of times. They have come and sought; but every time he has gone out—like a shadow. It's got to be an old story now. If you call them up and tell them they laugh.”
“How do you account for it?”
“I don't. I—I—I'm just dying.”
“And not one member of the force—surely?”
“Oh, yes. There's one. You have heard of Jerome. Jerome followed the professor and the Rhamda to the house of the Blind Spot, as he calls it. He's not a man to fool. He had eyes and he saw it. He will not leave it till he's dead.”
“But he did not see the Blind Spot, did he? How about trickery? Did it ever occur to you that the professor might have been murdered?”
“Take a look at that, Harry. Does that look like murder? When you see the man living?”
Watson reached over and turned up the jewel.
Here Hobart came in.
“Just a minute, Chick. My wise friend here is an attorney. He's always the first into everything, especially conversation. It's been my job pulling Harry out of trouble. Just one question.”