“Siki,” began Mitchell. “Did a taxi-driver stop here about—” he wheeled back to Palmer. “What was the time?”
“Between nine and ten o’clock, on Thursday night last,” answered Palmer. “Did he come here, Siki?”
“No, honorable sir,” Siki again bowed, finger-tips together and elbows aslant.
“No taxi-driver came?” Maynard looked eagerly at the Jap. “Think, Siki; don’t make a mistake.”
“My memory is of the most good.” Siki spoke with positiveness. “No such man called. You, honorable Mr. Maynard, were the last that night.”
“See here, Siki.” The Jap turned to face Hayden as the latter addressed him. “If the taxi-driver didn’t come to this apartment at that hour on Thursday, what were you doing in the hall just at that moment?”
“I came to answer the bell, honorable doctor,” responded Siki. “It rang.”
“We did not hear it,” declared Maynard.
“It rang in the pantry.” Siki’s oblique black eyes stared unwinkingly at his questioners.
“How long a time elapsed between the ringing of the bell and your answering it?” asked Mitchell.