"That," said Ashton-Kirk, "sounds rather neat and complete. I congratulate you."
Osborne coughed self-consciously.
"I thought it was rather good myself," he said. "The New York police have a detailed description and are looking out for him. I'm trying to dig up a photograph or two to send them, because they're a little shy of picking people up on a description alone."
Here one of the reporters stepped up to Ashton-Kirk.
"Pardon me," said he. "My name is Evans, and I represent the Star."
"Oh, yes." Ashton-Kirk looked at him with attention. "I have noticed your work, as you are permitted to sign it. Your specialty is the comic aspect of things. Are you not somewhat out of your way on a murder case?"
"It is unusual. But then it might not be altogether barren in results. If I can pick up a few points that will bear distortion, I might produce a novel column." He put his hands in his trousers pockets and swayed backward and forward. "I understand that you were here last night before the police arrived. Perhaps you could tell me——"
But here Osborne interrupted him with a laugh.
"If you listen to this fellow," said he to Ashton-Kirk, "he'll have you saying things you never meant to say, and he'll be attaching meanings to them that you never meant to give them."
"Now, just for that," said Evans, unruffled, "I'm going to give you a panning."