“He was looking for you,” said Ken, “so we thought we would bring him here.”
“Stop kidding, will you, and tell me what it’s all about?” demanded the detective.
The man stood there very innocently looking from one to the other. Ken removed the covering of paper from the rags and showed it to Walters. Paul said, “We saw him come out of the hall of a building....”
“357 South Main Street is the correct address,” said Ken, interrupting. “That bunch of rags was in flames and the wall and the stairs were already beginning to smolder.”
“And so we brought him here,” concluded Paul.
The detective turned to the man. “What’s your name?” he demanded.
The man shrugged his shoulders and opened his arms in a gesture of complete ignorance. “Did you try to start a fire just before at 357 South Main Street?” the detective again asked.
But the man kept his mouth shut, grinned and would say nothing. The detective was growing red in the face. Paul said, “You ought to have him examined by a doctor.”
“Where do you live?” asked Walters.
But questioning him was futile and a waste of breath and effort. The man either would not, could not, or just did not understand enough to answer the simple questions. Walters searched him. In his right coat pocket was found a bunch of white cards. Paul and the detective took out their cards and compared them to the bunch. “Identical,” muttered Walters.