Page:Burton Stevenson--The marathon mystery.djvu/57

Rh “Of course,” murmured Simmonds, gazing meditatively at the ceiling, “it’s quite impossible that he’d drop a word about the pile he had salted down in his room.”

“Oh, hell!” said Jimmy. “A bum like that! But come; let’s see how far you’ll go-of course you’ve got it figgered out! How did I work it? Mr. Higgins, here, saw me leave the building”

“No, he didn’t, Jimmy,” corrected Simmonds gently. “He only saw you start for the street door. But as soon as the elevator started, you took to the stairs.”

Jimmy threw up his hands with a fine gesture of despair.

“Oh, you’ve got it all fixed,” he cried. “You’ll railroad me to the chair, if you can. I suppose you’ve got somebody that’ll swear they saw me do it?”

“Yes,” agreed Simmonds quietly, “we have.”

Jimmy paused to look at him and turned a little pale when he saw he was in earnest. He began to realise that perhaps he was really in a tight place.

“Come, Mr. Simmonds,” he said, at last, “you don’t mean that!”

“You ought to know. I’ll have you identified to-morrow.”

“Identified?”

“Yes—by the woman who saw you kill Thompson.”

“A woman is it?” asked Jimmy helplessly. “Mebbe she’s already been so obligin’ as to give you my name?”

“No; but she gave us a description of you—a