“Bill can’t have gone far, knowing that coal-truck will have to be let out in a few minutes,” Dennis averred. “’Tis almost empty now and I’ll bet those guys got a tip from Orbit, to be working that fast! He’s moved to the other window now.”
Ching Lee admitted them, impassive as ever. Their call was evidently anticipated, for he conducted them at once up to the private study. Orbit turned from the window with an inquiring glance and they saw that he held in his hand an oddly-shaped, silver-mounted sprayer.
“Have you any news for me?” he asked quickly.
“Nothing definite yet. But don’t let us bother you, Mr. Orbit; I just wanted to ask you a question or two.”
“Glad to tell you anything, of course. I am just spraying the flowers to rid them of any particles of coal dust which may have floated up.” Orbit turned again to the window as he spoke. “It is a pity that such a hideous utilitarian necessity should mar their perfection, but the truck is going now.”
The rumble of the heavy vehicle arose from below as he spoke. Stepping to the other window, McCarty saw that the familiar figure of Bill Jennings was waiting once more by the eastern gate which he had thrown wide.
“You’re having a party later, Mr. Orbit?”
“A musicale. Giambattista is to appear and my guests will arrive in an hour. The unfortunate delay in putting in the coal—but what did you wish to ask me? I would have recalled the invitations if I could for I am in little mood for a function; the mystery surrounding the death of poor Hughes is more disturbing than anything I have known for years and I am waiting anxiously for it to be solved.”
He came forward again, replacing the sprayer in its case, and seated himself in the chair beside his writing table.
“Well, it was quite a bit of money Hughes left for a fellow that threw it around like he did and the inspector dropped a hint of it to the newspaper boys so if anybody thought they could fake a claim they’d show themselves. He wants to know if you’ve been approached?”