“Was that his baby?” the prisoner asked. “I just took it for a lark. The baby needed exercise and so did I.”
Joe thought to himself that what the baby needed might well be left to the judgment of its mother, but he continued:
“Do you know a man named Varley?”
A cunning look came into the prisoner’s eyes and he no longer looked straight at Joe, as he answered evasively:
“I’ve known several people by that name in my time.”
“This man was Reginald Varley, and he lives at Goldsboro, North Carolina,” Joe went on, relentlessly.
“No,” snapped Tabbs. “Never met him.”
Joe felt sure that the man was not telling the truth, but he was getting so restless and angry under his questioning that Joe felt it was useless just then to pursue the matter further.
“All right, brother,” he concluded, as he rose to go. “I’ll see you later.”
“Perhaps,” said Tabbs, and it was not till afterwards that Joe sensed the meaning that lay behind that final word of Talham Tabbs.