“I’m not so sure of that,” retorted Barclay. “As far as we know he may have been there a dozen times, and while, as I saw stated in an account of the inquest, it could not be proved that he had ever been in Atlanta before, he boarded the train at Mobile, and in that city, which also uses central time, he may have learned that while central time prevails in Atlanta, on northbound trains it there changes to eastern time.”
“That is possible,” McLane laid down the papers. “The conductor testified that while Ito was dining, he searched his luggage and found no trace of any flask filled with brandy, or a cup or glass.”
“Naturally, he could have thrown away all such incriminating articles by that time,” retorted Barclay. “Did the conductor search Ito before he left the train?”
“Unfortunately he did not,” replied McLane as he picked up a southern time-table from among the papers he had just laid down, and turned to a well-thumbed page. “Ito boarded the train at twenty-two minutes of two Wednesday morning, central time, when everyone was asleep, and his train was due at Spartanburg at six-twenty that evening, eastern time. As a matter of fact—what time did your train get there?” he broke off to ask.
“We were about two hours late.”
“I see,” McLane again consulted the time-table. “Your train reached Atlanta at ten minutes of twelve, central time; now, Mr. Barclay, how long a time elapsed between Tilghman’s scuffle with the Jap and your arrival at Atlanta?”
Barclay thoughtfully considered the question before replying. “I should judge about thirty-five minutes,” he said finally.
McLane’s hand descended on the desk with a resounding whack.
“Tilghman’s murder was not planned in any thirty-five minutes,” he announced. “Every detail gives the lie to such a supposition. Nor was it done on the impulse of the moment; and in my opinion the insult offered the Japanese was not of a nature to instigate him to commit murder. Wait, Tilghman said that he mistook Ito for a negro—pshaw! the yellow races don’t worry themselves about shade differences in their complexions.”
“You are wrong there,” answered Barclay. “Pride of birth, ancestor worship dominates the high cast Japanese, and Yoshida Ito, though he desired us to believe him a traveling salesman, belonged to the former class. Tilghman’s insult would be keenly felt and instantly resented by a highborn Japanese.”