“Kinder fanned himself an’ jerked his head back over his shoulder. Meanin’ it was too hot to sleep inside, I reckon. It sure was hot!”
“Fanned himself? How?”
“Like this.” The visitor raised his hands awkwardly, cupped them, and drew them toward his face.
“Er—with both hands?”
“Did you see him go in?”
“Nope.”
“Here’s your twenty,” said Average Jones. “You’re long on sense and short on words. I wish there were more like you.”
“Thanks. Thanks again,” said the teamster, and went out.
Meantime Kirby had sent his list of the guests who had given up their rooms on August seventh:
George M. Weaver, Jr., Utica, N. Y., well known to hotel people and vouched for by them.