McLane considered the question. “I now recall that Tilghman testified against the Japanese before the California legislature at the time of the passage of the anti-alien bill. He and Jim Patterson—Congressman from California,” he stopped to explain.
“I have met Patterson,” answered Barclay, and resting his elbow on the desk, shaded his eyes with his hand. “You were saying—”
“That Tilghman and Patterson were much in accord on the subject and, I believe, carried on quite a correspondence. Perhaps Patterson can give me some data which may throw light on Tilghman’s transactions with the Japanese. I will see him.” McLane again consulted the newspaper clippings. “There are several questions I wish to ask you before you leave,” pulling his chair up to the desk. “When did you first meet Dwight Tilghman?”
“The night before his murder. I boarded the train at New Orleans, and going into the smoker was introduced to him and Professor Norcross by Dr. Shively. We four played poker until far into the night.”
“How did Tilghman appear?”
Barclay hesitated. “Never having met him before, your question is a little difficult to answer. His manner to me appeared natural, and while he took little part in the conversation, he was at all times pleasant and good-natured.”
“Was he winning?”
Barclay laughed shortly. “I believe so; I was the only heavy loser. We played nearly all night, and I believe it was Tilghman who made the first move to break up the game.”
“Did you talk with him next morning?”
“Not for any length of time. I had a short talk with him just before the train stopped at the station in Atlanta.”