They entered the room, which contained a bed, a trunk, a wash-stand, and a chair.
"One of you can take the chair; the other can sit on the trunk," said the hack driver, nodding toward these articles. Then he proceeded to strop a razor at one of the windows. "Excuse me if I go on with this reaping. I must go out and feed the horse, and then get breakfast."
"You breakfast rather late," commented Ashton-Kirk.
"I'm lucky to get it at any time, in this business," grumbled Sams. "Out all night, sleep all day, and get blamed little for it, at that."
He posed before a small mirror stuck up beside the window and gave the blade an experimental sweep across his face. Then he turned and asked inquiringly:
"Did youse gents want anything particular?"
"We'd like to ask a question or two regarding what happened last night in Christie Place."
The cab driver's forehead corrugated; he closed his razor, laid it down and shoved his' soapy face toward the speaker.
"Say," spoke he, roughly. "I drives people wherever they wants to go; but I don't ask no questions."
"It's all right, Mr. Sams," said Ashton-Kirk. "The affair that I'm looking up happened across the street—at Hume's—second floor of 478."