“Quite a dog, Doctor.”
“Quite,” Dr. Stone agreed; and Joe, reading something in the word, gave his uncle a sharp, expectant glance.
Cagge came in from the kitchen with more coffee. His hand shook as he refilled the cups, and the spout of the pot chattered against the china.
“Cagge,” Dr. Stone said suddenly, “how did you sleep last night?”
“I didn’t—much,” Cagge answered in his nasal monotone. “I didn’t like the look of things.”
“Did you hear anybody go out?”
“Yes.” The servant put down the pot. “It was blasted queer. I heard somebody go out twice, and I heard somebody come back three times.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Captain Tucker said irritably.
“Everything makes sense when you understand it,” the blind man observed. Joe, catching a movement of the hand that held Lady’s leash, followed his uncle into the living-room.
“Joe, was the window of King’s room open?”