“About what time did the call come in?”
“Well, now let’s see.” Mr. Dallas was all eager helpfulness. “It must have been about quarter to ten, because every fifteen minutes we were making a jack pot, and I remember that we’d had the first and another was just about due when the ’phone rang and Dick held up the game for a while.”
“Did you get Mr. Burgoyne’s end of the conversation?”
“Well, not all of it. We were all making a good deal of a racket—just kidding along, you know—but I heard Dick say, ‘Oh, put on your clothes and come over and we’ll give you enough of ’em to start a bonfire.’ ”
“Did Mr. Burgoyne make any comments after he came back?”
“He said, ‘Boys, don’t let me forget to take some matches when I go. Farwell hasn’t got one in the house.’ ”
“What time did he leave?”
“Oh, around eleven-fifteen, I guess; we broke up earlier than usual.”
“Did you call Mr. Farwell up the following day around noon?”
“Yes, I did.” Mr. Dallas’s jaunty accents were suddenly tinged with gravity.