When he saw that this had been read, Locke threw down the paper and took out his watch. Then he pointed toward the door and sat waiting.
It was strange to see the little man sitting there calmly, with only the pressure of a finger between him and eternity. But Ashton-Kirk knew stern resolution too well to mistake the look on the mute's face. There was nothing to do but to obey. He waved his hand in a farewell. Locke returned the gesture. Then Ashton-Kirk walked to the door, opened it and stepped out.
Pendleton, patiently watching among the trees, saw him emerge and at once moved toward him; to his amazement the investigator took him by the arm and broke into a run.
"What the deuce is the matter now?" asked Pendleton, after they had passed the gate and were racing down the road.
"You'll know in a few moments," returned Ashton-Kirk grimly.
He permitted no pause until they reached the car, the engine of which had not been stopped.
"Quick, for your lives!" he ordered, as he leaped in.
Pendleton and Burgess followed instantly. The car had scarcely begun its plunge forward when a horrible rending shock staggered them. And as they sped away the debris of the deaf-mute's work-shop was falling all about them.
The evening papers were glaring with the news from Cordova by the time the two friends were once more alone in Ashton-Kirk's library. Pendleton seemed to be pondering.
"I say," said he, at last, "was it Morris or Spatola who remained at Hume's the night of the murder?"