"Listen," he began. "I had just hung up on you, Mr. Royce, when the phone rang. I answered. It was a man's voice, with an English-like accent, and low and trembly, if you know what I mean."
"Orkins, without a doubt," I said. "But he's not English. That accent is only a cultivated one."
"Well, he wanted to consult with the Chief of Police," the officer went on, "about the $5,000 reward. When I informed him the Chief was speaking, he wanted to know if he came to the police station, and disclosed the name of the man who had stolen the rocket, would he stand a good chance in getting the reward. I told him I thought he would, and to come right along."
"Didn't he say who he was?" McGinity asked.
"No. And he was very particular that I promise not to reveal his identity after he had given me the necessary information. Finally, when I agreed to this, he said: 'I'll be with you inside an hour.'"
"Then what?" I inquired, agitatedly.
"Apparently we were cut off," the Chief replied; "and yet we weren't exactly disconnected, as I will explain. Something must have happened that caused him to drop the receiver, and get away from the phone in a hurry. I could hear two voices, now—muffled-like, and growing more distinct. Then came a sound like heavy and hurried footfalls would make on a bare floor, followed by two distinct crashes, like some furniture had been overturned. All of a sudden, there was a report, like the crack of a whip. It might have been a pistol shot, but that's only a guess."
"I think you've guessed right, Chief," I said. "It's my belief that LaRauche overheard Orkins, while he was phoning to you, and attacked him. There was a scuffle, and one of them got shot."
"Double-crossing the old man, no doubt," McGinity suggested.
"Just that," I approved. "Orkins is as double-faced and treacherous as he's avaricious."