“I was only askin’,” said Policeman O’Toole politely enough.
“You shouldn’t ask such things until you’re asked to ask,” said Mr. Gubb.
After looking into Mr. Gubb’s room to see that there was no easy means of escape, O’Toole pushed his prisoner into the room and took the limp form of Mrs. Smitz from Mr. Gubb, who entered the room and closed the door.
“I may as well say what I want to say right now,” said the handcuffed man as soon as he was alone with Mr. Gubb. “I’ve heard of Detective Gubb, off and on, many a time, and as soon as I got into this trouble I said, ‘Gubb’s the man that can get me out if any one can.’ My name is Herman Wiggins.”
“Glad to meet you,” said Mr. Gubb, slipping his long legs into his trousers.
“And I give you my word for what it is worth,” continued Mr. Wiggins, “that I’m as innocent of this crime as the babe unborn.”
“What crime?” asked Mr. Gubb.
“Why, killing Hen Smitz—what crime did you think?” said Mr. Wiggins. “Do I look like a man that would go and murder a man just because—”
He hesitated and Mr. Gubb, who was slipping his suspenders over his bony shoulders, looked at Mr. Wiggins with keen eyes.
“Well, just because him and me had words in fun,” said Mr. Wiggins, “I leave it to you, can’t a man say words in fun once in a while?”