Emery shifted his position.
“My figuring wasn’t so good last night,” he confessed, with a weak grin. “Pardee musta gone back the way he came and recrossed the Drive at 79th Street; for a half-hour or so later I saw him heading home in front of the apartment-house light on the corner of 75th Street.”
“But,” interposed Vance, “if you were at the 74th-Street entrance to the park until a quarter past ten you must have seen Professor Dillard pass you. He returned home about ten o’clock by that route.”
“Sure, I saw him. I’d been waiting for Pardee about twenty minutes when the professor came strolling along all alone, crossed the Drive, and went home. I naturally thought Pardee and the hunchback were still gabbing,—that’s why I took it easy and didn’t go back to check up.”
“Then, as I understand, about fifteen minutes after Professor Dillard passed you, you saw Pardee returning home from the opposite direction along the Drive.”
“That’s right, sir. And, of course, I took up my post again on 75th Street.”
“You realize, Emery,” said Markham gravely, “that it was during the time you waited at 74th Street that Drukker fell over the wall.”
“Yes, sir. But you’re not blaming me, are you? Watching a man on a foggy night on an open path when there ain’t anybody around to screen you, is no easy job. You gotta take a few chances and do a little figuring if you don’t want to get spotted.”
“I realize your difficulty,” Markham told him; “and I’m not criticizing you.”
The Sergeant dismissed the three detectives gruffly. He was obviously dissatisfied with their reports.