Higgins grew red in the face.
“I ain’t got nothin’ more t’ say!” he burst out explosively. “You’ll be sayin’ I did it, next!”
“Oh, no!” retorted Simmonds coolly, “you didn’t do it. But I’m not quite sure you’ve told us all you know.”
Higgins sprang from his chair, fairly foaming at the mouth with rage, but Simmonds calmly disregarded him.
“I’ve left a man on guard in fourteen,” he said. “Goldberg wants to bring his jury around in the morning to look at things. Here’s your keys,” and he handed the jingling ring back to the janitor.
“There’s a man coming up from the office to take a flash-light of it,” said Godfrey. “No objection to that, I guess?”
“No; that’s all right. Come around in the morning to talk it over. I think I’ll have some news for you,” and he went on out into the street.
Higgins sat down again, still nursing his wrath.
“Did y’ hear him?” he demanded. “Why, he as good as called me a liar!”
“Oh, you mustn’t mind him,” said Godfrey soothingly. “It’s his business to be suspicious. He doesn’t really suspect you.”
“Well, they ain’t no cause t’ suspect me—I ain’t done nothin’,” returned the janitor; then he looked meditatively at his keys, which he still held in his hand. “Funny,” he murmured; “funny. I don’t know when they went out.”
Godfrey said nothing, but contemplated him through half-dosed eyes.
