He picked up the alibi reports.
“There’s pos’tively nothing to be done but to go on checking up these alibis.”
I could not imagine what goal he was trying to reach by these apparently irrelevant digressions; and Markham, too, was mystified. But neither of us doubted for a moment that there was method in his madness.
“Let’s see,” he mused. “The Major’s is the next in order. What do you say to tackling it? It shouldn’t take long: he lives near here; and the entire alibi hinges on the evidence of the night-boy at his apartment-house.—Come!” He got up.
“How do you know the boy is there now?” objected Markham.
“I ’phoned a while ago and found out.”
“But this is damned nonsense!”
Vance now had Markham by the arm, playfully urging him toward the door.
“Oh, undoubtedly,” he agreed. “But I’ve often told you, old dear, you take life much too seriously.”
Markham, protesting vigorously, held back, and endeavored to disengage his arm from the other’s grip. But Vance was determined; and after a somewhat heated dispute, Markham gave in.