The ropey, rubbery something was the tube connecting the heater with the gas-fixture.
“I move we light 'er up, and make the place comfortable; then we can talk this matter over,” continued Mr. Bud. “Shet the door, an' siddown.”
Seated in the waves of warmth from the gas-stove, the two went into the details of the case.
Larcher not withholding the theory of Mr. Lafferty, and even touching briefly on Davenport's misunderstanding as to Florence Kenby.
“Well,” said Mr. Bud, thoughtfully, “if he reely went into a hallway in these parts, it would prob'ly be the hallway he was acquainted with. But he wouldn't stay in the hallway. He'd prob'ly come to this room. An' he'd no doubt bring his parcels here. But one thing's certain: if he did that, he took 'em all away again. He might 'a' left somethin' in the closet, or under the bed, or somewheres.”
A search was made of the places named, as well as of drawers and wash-stand, but Mr. Bud found no additions to his property. He even looked in the coal-box,—and stooped and fished something out, which he held up to the light. “Hello, I don't reco'nize this!”
Larcher uttered an exclamation. “He has been here! That's the note-book cover the money was in. He had it the night before he was last seen. I could swear to it.”
“It's all dirty with coal-dust,” cautioned Mr. Bud, as Larcher seized it for closer examination.
“It proves he's been here, at least. We've got him traced further than the detective, anyhow.”
“But not so very fur, at that. What if he was here? Mind, I ain't a-sayin' one thing ur another,—but if he was contemplatin' a voyage, an' had fixed to be took aboard late at night, what better place to wait fur the ship's boat than just this here?”