“Most assuredly.”
“Then——?”
“Then we shall see. My fairness is clear in that I give you a sight of the document with myself. I might have denied all knowledge of it.”
Alcatrante smiled as if to say: “I already knew so much that you could not risk that.”
The stranger turned to Arima and said something in Japanese. Arima replied, and the stranger explained to Alcatrante: “I asked about my man Maku. The American struck him on the head last night, and injured him. But he is recovering. He is troublesome—that American.”
Orme started. His head bumped against the table.
“What’s that?” exclaimed Poritol, advancing. “There’s something under that table!” He stooped to lift the cover.
One chance flashed into Orme’s mind. Quickly he seized the cat, which was still sleeping against his knee, and pushed it under the table-cover. It walked out into the room, mewing plaintively.
“A cat,” said Poritol, drawing back.
Arima explained in English: “It belongs to lady upstairs. Comes down fire-escape. Shoo! Shoo!” He clapped his hands and the animal bounded to the window-sill and disappeared up the iron steps.