“Oh, it don’t?” Heath’s retort was ponderous with sarcasm. “I thought maybe after he’d broke his neck he mighta come back and passed the time of day with you.”
“What I meant was, Sergeant——”
“You meant that Drukker—the bird you were supposed to keep an eye on—went to call on the Dillards at eight o’clock, and then you set down in the arbor, most likely, and took a little beauty nap. . . . What time did you wake up?”
“Say, listen!” Guilfoyle bristled. “I didn’t take no nap. I was on the job all night. Just because I didn’t happen to see this guy come back home don’t mean I was laying down on the watch.”
“Well, if you didn’t see him come back, why didn’t you phone in that he was spending his week-end out of town or something?”
“I thought he musta come in by the front door.”
“Thinking again, were you? Ain’t your brain worn out this morning?”
“Have a heart, Sergeant. My job wasn’t to tail Drukker. You told me to watch the house and see who went in and out, and that if there was any sign of trouble to bust in.—Now, here’s what happened. Drukker went to the Dillards’ at eight o’clock, and I kept my eye on the windows of the Drukker house. Along about nine o’clock the cook goes up-stairs and turns on the light in her room. Half an hour later the light goes out, and says I: ‘She’s put to bed.’ Then along about ten o’clock the lights are turned on in Drukker’s room——”
“What’s this?”
“Yeh—you heard me. The lights go on in Drukker’s room about ten o’clock; and I can see a shadow of somebody moving about.—Now, I ask you, Sergeant: wouldn’t you yourself have took it for granted that the hunchback had come in by the front door?”