“How is he?” asked the policeman.
“All right, I guess,” replied the life-saver. “I looked in a few minutes ago, and he was sitting up. Hello, Asuki.”
“Hello, there,” responded the little Japanese.
“Come,” said the policeman, after an unsuspicious glance at Orme, and, mounting the steps, he led his interpreter into the station.
Now, indeed, it was time for Orme to slip away. Maku might be brought out at any moment. But Orme lingered. He was nearer to the solution of the secret if he kept close to Maku, and he realized, for that matter, that by watching Maku closely and, perhaps, following him home, he might be led straight to the other man. If Maku accused him, it should not, after all, be hard to laugh the charge away.
A murmur of voices came from within the station, the policeman’s words alone being distinguishable.
“Ask him,” the policeman said, “if he knows who hit him.”
The undertones of a foreign jargon followed.
“Well, then,” continued the policeman, “find out where he came from and what he was doing on the campus.”
Again the undertones, and afterward an interval of silence. Then the policeman spoke in an undecided voice.