His clear, placid eyes regarded them still in good-humored inquiry and McCarty asked:
“When did you see him again?”
“De next night. Friday.”
“What-t!” The quiet answer had been all but overwhelming, but Otto seemed unconscious of its portent.
“De next night,” he repeated patiently. “It bane yust start to rain an’ he var sitting on stoop of house t’ree street down, holting on wit’ bote han’s to stomach. He var ver’ sick mans. Ay tal him Ay take him home but he tal me go to hell. He look w’ite lak sheet, Ay t’ank he bane soffer mooch but he say he bane goin’ walk it off. Dat’s last Ay see of him.”
“You went on and left him sitting there? That would be about eight o’clock?”
“Yes, ’bout eight. Ay stay to see can Ay halp him but he get oop an’ walk ’way. Ay t’ank to mysalf den he look lak deat’ but Ay did not guess it var poison. He tal me he bane get sick at dinner an’ Ay t’ank he yust eat too mooch.” Otto shook his head. “Hughes var bad mans but murder is not so good! Dat Calabar bean he bane get here in de Mall, sure!”
CHAPTER XX
MAX
“Is that the poor beast you told me about?” It was an hour later, and McCarty and Dennis were coming down the steps of the Parsons residence. The latter pointed across the street to where Max was prowling up and down the court.
“Yes. He’ll go on like that till he drops in his tracks.” A certain note of grimness had crept into McCarty’s tone. “I wonder if Orbit went down to the boat to see his friend off? I’d like a word with him if Sir Philip has gone.”