CHAPTER IV
The Busy Police
But even the astonishing disclosure of the scrawled statement did not cause Bob Moore to lose his head. Excited and startled though he was, he was also alertly conscious that he must conduct himself with care. He had a vague fear that he might be connected with the case and weirdly enough he had a secret fear that he might not!
Already in fancy he saw himself doing marvelously clever detective work that should result in getting the criminal of whom the dying efforts of the victim strove to tell him. But he must be careful not to put himself forward, not to overstep his privileges, and, above all, not to seem too eager to help in the search for the murderer, for he felt sure his offers of assistance would be deemed presumptuous.
Doctor Pagett came running down the stairs, knotting his necktie as he descended.
“Binney!” he exclaimed; “the Englishman who makes Buns. What’s this paper?”
“I haven’t touched it, Doctor; I haven’t touched anything. You can see for yourself what the paper says.”
“Women did this,” said the doctor, his eyes fairly bulging; “what—what does it mean? Where were you?”
“Up at the tenth floor, taking Mr Vail up. He came in,—there was no Binney about then!—and I took him up in the elevator to his floor, and when I came down, Mr Binney was there just as you see him now,—only, he was still alive.”