"With a hypodermic needle. In the jugular here"—he put a finger on his throat. "There was curare in it. What the San Blas Indians dip their arrow-points in. Kills like a hammer-stroke. De Socotra gave me the needle and showed me how. But I bungled it. The cabman heard something and stopped by the curb. My nerve was gone. I beat it."
"Where did you go then?" asked Greg.
"I went—I don't know—I went—I went——"
The voice trailed off. The narcotic was taking effect.
CHAPTER XVIII
BLOSSOM'S REPORT
Greg heard a new voice in the kitchen. De Silva was now in a heavy sleep, and he went down to investigate. Blossom's failure to turn up had made him very anxious.
This was the boy from the drug-store to say that Greg was wanted on the telephone. Greg went back with him.
Over the wire he heard Pa Simmons' old voice:
"Say, Greg, I'm sorry, but I lost his nibs, the Spanish bloke. On the level I couldn't help it. He took after Blossom and a girl, and I took after him, but they all got in the subway, and I couldn't leave me old boat in the street while I traveled all over town in the subway, could I?"