"It went by our boy. It was sold to Mr. Cartwright the artist, and was sent to his studio up here in Fifth St. But there was another—the last one that we had," suddenly, "and now that I get thinking of it, I remember we had some trouble about it. The man that bought it was a Dago."
Pendleton darted a swift look at Ashton-Kirk, but the investigator's expression never changed. He looked steadily at the clock.
"When he asked for the bayonet," proceeded Sime, "I knew we had one left, but I could not just lay my hands on it. He paid for it and I said we'd send it to him. He started to give me his address, and then changed his mind and said he'd come back again."
"And he did?"
"Yes; the same afternoon. I had found the thing by that time and he took it with him."
"You don't recall the address?"
To his employer's evident mortification, Sime shook his head.
"Look in the books," suggested Mr. Bernstine with confidence. "Look in the books."
"It ain't there," answered Sime. "He said he'd come back, so I didn't put it down."
"Was it Christie Place?"