The Paternoster Ruby | Page 7

my mind, if Stodger had demanded my opinion at that moment. As his round, cherubic face emerged between the curtains, I turned to him with considerable curiosity.
"Told it word for word as he did to me," was my companion's comment. "Could n't have told it better if it had been a piece learnt by heart."
"Oh, he could n't, eh?" observed I, thoughtfully, leading the way to the landing.
But I could not permit myself to theorize at this stage--an indulgence which, when premature, inevitably colors one's opinions, and prejudices all attempts at clear, logical reasoning.
CHAPTER III
SOME DISCOVERIES
But I was not yet permitted to begin my examination of the body and its immediate surroundings. I had no sooner arrived at the landing than I heard a man's voice, somewhere above in the second story, speaking with a note of determination that demanded some sort of recognition from the person addressed. The clear, ringing, resolute tone made me involuntarily pause and listen.
"Where 's your headquarters man?" the voice was irately demanding. "I want to see him, d' ye hear? You blithering idiot, I 'm going down those stairs; if you want to rough it, just try to stop me."
Another voice was raised in expostulation. Stodger, at my elbow, suddenly chuckled.
"That's him!" he whispered, with an unaccountable excitement. "That's Maillot!"
"He must be a tartar," I observed.
At that instant a stalwart young man, very angry and with one discolored eye that lent him an uncommonly truculent appearance, looked down on us from the upper hall; then he deliberately ignored the arguing policeman, strode to the head of the stairs and descended to the landing.
"It's all right, Callahan," said Stodger to the discomfited blue-coat.
The young man halted before us.
"Ass!" he growled, staring hard at me.
Stodger made the epithet exclusively mine with a bow and a broad grin. Instantly the young fellow flushed and stammered an apology.
"I didn't mean either of you chaps," he explained, in embarrassment. "It's that chuckle-headed hod-carrier in a blue uniform. If he gives me any more of his cheek, I 'll take his club from him and hand him a wallop over the head with it--dashed if I don't."
He looked eminently capable of doing it, too. He paused, his look resting upon me with an interrogation.
"Are you in authority here?" he bluntly demanded.
"I suppose so. Are you Mr. Maillot?"
"I am. And I 'd like to know how much longer I 'll have to stay in this beastly cold-storage warehouse. I 'm plenty tired of it right now, if you want to know."
I smiled at the resolute young fellow; there was something decidedly likable in his frank and handsome countenance, and his blunt, intense manner.
"It all depends, Mr. Maillot. You and Mr. Burke are the only ones who can help me to some sort of solution of this crime--if crime it is; I take it for granted that you are willing to do what you can."
He favored me with another stare, then stood thoughtfully pulling at his lips and gazing at the body.
"Poor chap!" he muttered at length, in a hushed voice. "A ghastly way to die; I 'd give a lot to know how it happened." Then he looked brightly at me, and asked with an almost boyish impulsiveness:
"Are you a detective--like Stodger here?"
"I 'm a detective," I told him; "though I don't know how closely I resemble Stodger." A sound came from that worthy that made me think he was strangling. "Swift is my name."
Maillot suddenly thrust out his right hand.
"Glad to know you, Swift," he said heartily. "You look like a sensible chap. I 'm willing to do all I can to help you--of course I am. It won't be much, I 'm afraid. But if any thick-headed cop says I can't do this or can't do that, there 's going to be trouble. They can't bluff me, and I know they have n't any right to dictate what I shall do."
All of which was quite true. Maillot glanced at the body again, and lowered his voice.
"Say," he said, "can't we go to a more appropriate place to talk matters over?"
"Yes--the library," suggested I.
He drew back, and his face darkened.
"Library!" he echoed.
"There 's a fire there now," I informed him, wondering at his quick-changing moods. Next instant he was talking again, eagerly.
"But--look here, Swift--you have n't examined the body yet, have you? I 'm curious to see whether you discover anything. Queer old chap he was; I don't think anybody ever understood him."
He broke off and eyed Stodger severely.
"What the deuce are you laughing at, Stodger?" he demanded.
Stodger laid a hand upon his arm, and asked with husky eagerness:
"On the level, Maillot--between us, you know--just what did you say last night when somebody pulled the shade down over that lamp of yours?"
"You go to thunder," Maillot retorted, turning his back