“So?” Ito reflected. “It what you call ‘hard luck.’”
Shively’s color rose. “It is ‘hard luck’ which I call upon you to explain,” he said stiffly. “Kindly inform me where you spent your time during the two hours this train was in Atlanta.”
“Why you ask?”
“Because during that time or, to be more exact, six hours ago, Mr. Tilghman was poisoned by drinking brandy containing a solution of oxalic acid. Where were you at that time, Mr. Ito?”
“You say he died six hours ago?” The Japanese consulted his watch and did some rapid calculating. “That make time he swallow poison five minutes past twelve. At that hour I was in public ribrary in Atlanta. I talk with ribrarian and take out book card—he stamp time on it. If you no believe, wire ribrarian at my expense and see I tell truth.”
Shively looked at Norcross and Barclay and then back at Ito.
“The seriousness of the situation obliges me to get corroboration of your statement, Mr. Ito,” he said. “I shall wire at the first opportunity to the Atlanta library.”
“Then now’s your chance,” broke in the conductor. “We are just stopping at Greenville.”
“Can you hold the train for an answer?” asked Shively.
“No, we are late already and must make up time,” called the conductor, as he made for the door. “Wire the librarian to send his answer to meet the train at Spartanburg, our next stop.”