"Certainly." Hutchinson smiled agreeably. "Of course."
They took him aside, and Ashton-Kirk looked him steadily in the face while he said:
"We'd like to ask a question or two about a friend of yours—Fenton."
Hutchinson smiled once more, still agreeably, but with a little less genuineness.
"Oh, Joe," said he. "Yes, an old pal of mine. What about him?"
"He comes in to see you quite frequently, doesn't he?"
"Why, yes; pretty often." Hutchinson's hand smoothed at the waves of hair, and through the smile showed evidences of trouble. "But, then, most of the boys come in often. It's quite a hang-out for most of them."
But Ashton-Kirk refused to consider this last.
"Fenton often met people here, I think," said he, his keen eyes still fixed upon the other. "People who wanted to see him in the way of business."
"Why, no," said Hutchinson; "no; I never knew Joe to meet a soul——"