He sat down beside Kintyre and took out his pipe. They smoked together for a wordless while.
"Well," said Kintyre at last. "Have you figured out who's behind the murders?"
"No. Think you can tell us? Feel free to wait."
"Oh, I can. M-m-m-m-margery—"
Yamamura worked powerful fingers along Kintyre's shoulders and the base of his neck. "Go on," he said.
"Margery's death—brought back Morna's, I suppose—I failed them both. I didn't need O'Hearn's story to determine who instigated all this. I could have told you yesterday afternoon, if I'd used my head—Ouch!"
"That," said Yamamura, "was to halt an incipient tailspin. I felt it coming. You are not to blame for one damn item except being human and therefore limited, fallible, and unable to do everything simultaneously on roller skates. If you forget that again, I shall punch you in a more sensitive spot. Now why don't you go swallow one of those chemical consolations?"
"I told you they don't help much."
"I've no high opinion of 'em myself, but do so anyway."
When Kintyre had returned and sat down again, Yamamura said: "Okay, carry on. Who is our man?"