“Yes, so far as I know. He’s deaf and dumb, you see, and has the reputation of being rather hot tempered at times; but I never heard that he didn’t have all his faculties. Poor fellow! It’s enough to drive any one dotty to have to do all one’s talking with pencil and paper. I’m not surprised that he loses his temper now and then.”
“I should say not,” Tucker put in. “Just imagine getting into an argument and having to write it all out. I’d lay down and cough up the ghost.”
“I opine you’d blow up and bust, Tommy,” Buckhart grinned. “Or else the hot air would strike in and smother you.”
“You’re envious of my wit and persiflage,” declared Tucker. “I’d be ashamed to show such a disposition as that, if I were you.”
“When you’re talking with Hanlon, do you also have to take to pencil and paper?” Dick asked interestedly.
“Oh, no,” Clingwood answered. “He knows what you’re saying by watching your lips. He’s amazingly good at it, too; I’ve never seen him stumped.”
At that moment Stovebridge strolled out of the clubhouse and stopped beside Clingwood’s chair.
“Any signs of Layton yet?” he drawled.
“Haven’t seen him,” the other man answered. “He’s had hardly time to get here from Wilton, has he?”
“Plenty, if he came on the eleven forty-seven. Sartoris went over with his car to meet him. I hope he’s not going to disappoint us.”