Returning to his post and to his engrossing book, the next arrival was Mr Vail. He belonged on the tenth floor and as they ascended, Moore, full of his story, said:
“Ever read detective stories, Mr Vail?”
“Occasionally; but I haven’t much time for reading. Business men like more active recreation.”
“Likely so, sir. But I tell you this yarn I’m swallowing is a corker!”
“What’s it called?”
“‘Murder Will Out,’ by Joe Jarvis. It’s great! Why, Mr Vail, the victim was killed,—killed, mind you,—in a room that was all locked up——”
“How did the murderer get in?”
“That’s just it! How did he? And he left his revolver,——”
“Left his revolver? Then he did get in and get out! Must have been a secret passage——”
“No, sir, there wasn’t! That is, the author says so, and all the people,—the characters, you know, try to find one, and they can’t! Oh, it’s exciting, I’ll say! I can’t guess how it’s coming out.”