“I couldn’t rightly hear her, sir. Her kids was all screamin’ and whoopin’-coughin’ to beat the band.”
“Gee!” remarked Fibsy, “Vapo-crinoline!”
“What?” asked Stone.
“It’s the stuff they uses for whoopin’ cough. Me kid brother had it onct. Vapo Kerosene, or sumpin.”
“Also,” the captain went on, “there was a phonograph goin’ and there was building goin’ on near. I could hear riveters.”
“But who was the woman? Didn’t she give her name?”
“No, she was a dago woman,” Collins said, stroking his chin reflectively; “I couldn’t find out where she lived, nor why she sent the message. There was such a racket goin’ on where she was, I couldn’t half hear her.”
“What sort of a racket?”
“All sorts. She said her children had whooping-cough, and they did, for sure; but there was other noises. Seemed like hammerin’ and screechin’ and music all at once.”
“Music?”