Words popped turbulently from “Big Jim.” Either he was actually telling the truth, or he had committed his story to heart.
“No Kill!” he vociferated, gesticulating. “No kill! Take watch, but no kill! Hide for man—pull him in—fight—he dead! Take money—run—hide—”
Fear shone in his shifting eyes and on his swarthy, perspiring face. As he glanced nervously about the building, the fantastic idea occurred to me that his fear was less of the police than of some unseen, intangible force beyond his comprehension. I caught myself looking apprehensively over my own shoulder.
Corcoran spat on the floor disgustedly.
“Part of that yarn’s all right,” he said. “That part about his stealing the watch and all, I mean. The rest is all bull. How would he get the stuff off a big guy like that without croaking him? How did he kill him, anyway?”
Captain Dolan leaned forward, his eyes gleaming.
“Yes, officer,” he repeated. “How did he kill him? Tell us that if you can.”
Corcoran thrust his captive toward Kenton and knelt beside the body. When he looked up, his face was blank. Rising he turned savagely on “Big Jim.”
“Come, now!” he ordered roughly, shaking the foreigner by the shoulder. “How did you kill him? Speak up!”
“No kill!” repeated “Big Jim” stubbornly. “No kill!”