"I didn't see the other myself," said the drug clerk. "But it stopped over at the Japanese, too, so old Patterson, the watchman, told me. That was a couple of hours ago."
Ashton-Kirk had finished with the bandage and surveyed it, in a mirror, with an air of satisfaction. Then taking up his cigar once more, he remarked:
"Stopped there, too, did it? Humph! I wonder if any one got in?"
"Patterson said there were two persons came out of the house, but only Mr. Okiu got into the taxi. The other one walked up the street. But," and the clerk wagged his head in humorous appreciation, "that's not the funny part of the thing."
"No?"
"It was the girl," said the clerk, a broad smile upon his face.
Again Fuller darted the inquiring look at the secret agent; but even at this he did not display any indications of marked interest.
"There was a girl, was there?" was all Ashton-Kirk said.
The clerk nodded.
"Patterson is a funny old scout, there's no use talking," said he. "He's got such a comic way of looking at things. And where he gets all his expressions is more than I can say."