"That would he very easily done," answered Ashton-Kirk, as his eye took in the level stretch of roofs.
After a little more questioning to make sure that the landlady had missed nothing, they thanked her and left the house. At his door they saw the man in the cloth cap and overalls. A second and very unwieldy man, with a flushed, unhealthy looking face, had just stopped to speak to him.
He supported himself with one hand on the wall.
"Hello!" called the machinist to Ashton-Kirk; and as the two approached him, he said to the unwieldy man: "I stopped you to tell you these gents had gone in. They're detectives."
"Oh," said the man, with interest in his wavering eye. "That so." He regarded the two young men uncertainly for a moment; and then asked: "Did Mrs. Marx tell you anything?"
"She didn't seem to know much," answered the investigator.
The unwieldy man swayed to and fro, an expression of cunning gathering in his face. The machinist winked and whispered to Pendleton:
"I don't know his name, but he's one of the lodgers."
"Marx," declared the unwieldy man, "is a fine lady. But," with an elaborate wink, "she knows more'n she tells sometimes." The wavering eye tried to fix the investigator, but failed signally. "It don't do," he added wisely, "to tell everything you know."
Ashton-Kirk agreed to this.