“Say to it?” Webber echoed. “He asked Vernon to explain, which he did, and Clayton then staggered all hearers, myself included, by declaring that he had not been out of his private office for nearly half an hour. Great guns, what a crust! Could you beat it? Could you beat it, Nick? The man has gone daffy, clean off his perch. He——”
“One moment, Webber,” said Nick, interrupting. “Where were you when Clayton came after the jewel cases?”
“Right here in the office.”
“Did you see him?”
“See him—certainly, Nick, I saw him.”
“Are you sure it was he, absolutely sure?”
“Rats!” Webber blurted derisively. “Sure of it? That’s a fat question. Do you think I’ve been hanging around here for six months and don’t know Chester Clayton by sight? I know it was he, Nick. I would stake my life on it. Here’s Vernon. Ask him.”
Nick turned to the head clerk, who had been listening[Pg 10] over the marble counter, within a few feet of which the detectives were standing.
“What do you say, Mr. Vernon?” he inquired.
“I can speak as emphatically as Mr. Webber,” was the reply. “I know positively that Mr. Clayton took both jewel cases from me.”