McKelvie returned to my side and entered the machine. Hardly had he settled himself when the man was beside us. He was the same fellow I had questioned. I knew his ugly face in the light cast upon it by the lamp under which I had parked, but he failed to recognize me, since my face was in shadow.
"On October the tenth a man who lodged at Mrs. Blake's jumped into the East River and was drowned. Am I right?" asked McKelvie without preliminary.
"Sure. I told the bulls all I knowed at the time," responded Kite.
"I know. But I want the information first hand. He came to the wharf and jumped in. Was that the way it happened?"
"Sort of like that. When I seed him he was right on the edge. I hallooed and he flung up his arms high and duve in. I ran to the edge, but he never cum up. Current got 'im, I guess," answered Kite indifferently.
"And the body has not been recovered?" continued McKelvie.
The man grinned. "Well, they ain't had time. It's only four days. He might bob up yet."
I shuddered at the callous way in which he spoke of this boy of whom I had been fond.
"Is this the man?" McKelvie turned his flash on the picture.
"Sure, that's 'im, all right."