“Yez no know, eh? Well, is he comin’ here?––do yez no know that?”
“He tell me––come here and wait––feex thees room––he come here or telephone.”
The straightforward manner of the little Jap had almost completely disarmed the policeman’s suspicion, but he surrendered reluctantly.
“Did he give yez a key to get in here?” Phelan fired as his last shot.
“Ees––he give me all bunch keys––look!” and 49 Bateato produced a gold key ring with a gold tag and a number of keys attached. Phelan examined it and read aloud the name Travers Gladwin engraved on the tag. Handing them back to the Jap, he addressed him impressively, gesturing his emphasis with his baton:
“I guess yez’re all right, but I’ll have me eye on yez from the outside, mind that––and if yez’re foolin’ me or tryin’ to get away with anythin’”–––
Phelan snapped his lips together and with a mighty lunge plucked an imaginary prisoner out of the atmosphere and shook it ferociously. Then stepping back to the doorway he shut one eye with a fierce wink and jerked out:
“Are yez wise?”
The profound pantomime was too much for Bateato, who stared after the vanishing officer in open-mouthed amazement.