“Not in my profession,” he returned seriously. “Alcohol dulls one’s powers of observation.”
I nodded gravely. “So it does,” I said. “How long have you been in this racket ?”
“You mean how long have I been a private investigator?” he asked, blushing. “Well, not long.” He looked at me earnestly. “As a matter of fact, Mr. Cain, I—this is my first big job.”
“Well, you’re doing fine,” I said. “It doesn’t worry you to work for me ?” I grinned to soften the blow, added, “I’m wanted for three murders.”
He stared at his hat, twisted it, put it on the table. “My view of the matter, Mr. Cain, is you’ve been unjustly accused by an unscrupulous person,” he said.
I blinked. “You really think that?” I said, glancing at Tim whose mouth had fallen open.
“Oh yes,” Clairbold said. “I’ve studied the facts very closely. You see, i have my reputation to consider. It wouldn’t do for me to work for anyone guilty of murder. I have satisfied myself that you are an innocent party to the murders.”
“Pity there aren’t more like you around,” I said. “Well, you have something to tell me, haven’t you?”
“Yes. I have a full report here,” he said, drawing a sheaf of papers from his pocket.
I hurriedly waved them away. “Just tell me,” I said. “Reading isn’t my strong suit.”