"So sorry," bowed Chan.
"Well, as a matter of fact," said John Quincy, "I was going to tell Mr. Chan the whole story at once." He turned to the Chinaman. "I've already tried to reach you by telephone at the station. When I left the woman's cottage—"
"Police affairs forbid utmost courtesy," interrupted Chan. "I cut in to remark from the beginning, if you will please do so."
"Oh, yes," smiled John Quincy. "Well, the woman herself let me in, and showed me into her little living-room. When I got there this fellow Leatherbee was mixing cocktails by the table—"
Haku appeared at the door. "Mr. Charlie Chan wanted by telephone," he announced.
Chan apologized and hastened out.
"I intend to tell everything," John Quincy warned his aunt.
"I shan't interfere," she answered. "That slant-eyed Chinaman has been sitting here looking at me more in sorrow than in anger for the better part of an hour, and I've made up my mind to one thing. I shall have no more secrets from the police."
Chan reentered the room. "As I was saying," John Quincy began, "this fellow Leatherbee was standing by the table, and—"
"Most sorry," said Chan, "but the remainder of that interesting recital is to be told at the station-house."