He broke off to stare at the center of the lower sheet which still remained on the bed. At its very center was a deep dent.
“Stepped there,” he told himself, “one of ’em.”
Switching on his flashlight, he examined the sheet in minute detail.
“Not a mark,” he muttered. “Take it along all the same.”
“You all goin’ t’ take that sheet?” The porter was at his elbow.
“Sure am.” Howe showed his star.
“All right, Mister Police. Ah cain’t stop you. But t’ain’t no sort of use. Ain’t no marks on that sheet. I examined it particular.”
“Were you here when the thing happened?” Howe’s eagle eyes snapped.
“No. Oh, no, suh! Ah don’t come on ’fore half a hour ago.”
“But you weren’t far away,” Howe thought to himself. “Hiding in the linen closet, like as not. Bribed you, maybe. Wonder how much it would cost to buy a porter?”