“Back here at half past eight,” said Cardona, making a notation on a pad. “That figures you at Marchand’s house from about eight to eight twenty. That was pretty close to what Willis said.”
“HALF past eight,” interrupted Jerry Burnham, still scratching his head. “That was the time. Kama” — the Japanese servant entered — “what time did Mister Paget come in here last night — you know, when Mister Greylock was here. Just before we went out together?”
“Bigee clock strike halfee past eight,” said the Japanese.
“Great boy, Kama,” said Burnham approvingly. “That Jap knows everything. That’s why I keep him. Best man I ever had.”
“Between eight and eight twenty,” said Cardona, with a satisfied voice. “That much is settled. Did Doctor Lukens appear at all worried?”
“He looked tired,” said Paget. “Said he had been working all afternoon, and had just cleaned up the job. Willis was putting everything away. He looked tired, too.”
“Did he say anything special to you?”
“Nothing. I merely stopped in to inquire if he had found records of any uncompleted business that concerned me. I handled a few of Marchand’s investments, you know. The old man was a friend of my father.”
“I see.” Cardona arose. “That’s all, Mister Paget,” he said. “Sorry to disturb you. Thanks for the information. I’ll put your testimony on record. It about cleans up all that I can get.”
“I’m always glad to help you, Cardona,” said Paget, rising and walking to the door with the detective.