“I am originator of designs, honorable sir,” he said blandly. “It is possibly so that my sketch was used in decorating your flask. Show me flask and I tell you.”
“I’ve—I’ve lost my flask,” stammered Barclay. If the Japanese really had been at the Atlanta library at the hour Tilghman was poisoned he would know nothing of the flask, and he might be one of the Japanese employed by large silversmiths in this country to furnish them designs. But if he had been present at Tilghman’s murder and had guilty knowledge—Barclay’s stubborn chin became more pronounced; his future actions, however, hinged on the little man’s alibi. “Mr. Ito,” he began deliberately, “you state that you are an artistic designer traveling in America to get in personal touch with your customers. But your name is not one usually associated with trade in your own country.”
Ito sipped his black coffee meditatively. “I poor Nipponese,” he announced. “You rich American. I travel in your country to make money; you traveled in my country,” Ito paused to pepper his soup, “and bought curios.”
The quick retort on Barclay’s lips remained unspoken as Shively stopped at their table.
“The engineer is making up time,” he said, clinging to the table as the train went around a mountain curve and unbalanced him for the moment. “We’ll be in Spartanburg very soon. Norcross and I are sitting here,” and he joined the professor at the table directly across from them.
Barclay passed a relish to the Japanese in silence, and still without speaking they continued their dinner, each apparently immersed in his own thoughts.
If Ito observed that he was watched by Shively and Norcross as well as Barclay, there was no effort on his part to hasten the service of the meal, and he waited with patient courtesy for Barclay to finish before rising.
“My car next,” he volunteered, taking his hat from the waiter.
“Go ahead, I’ll come with you.” Barclay pushed back his chair impatiently and his long stride quickly brought him up with his companion, but not in time to exchange a word in private, for Shively was at their side with Professor Norcross in tow.
“Are these your traps, Mr. Ito?” Shively pointed to two suitcases, an overcoat, and an umbrella propped up in one of the sections of the sleeper.