"Yes. Afraid so. Yes. Let me know as soon as you have anything more. Good morning, good morning." He bustled out.
"A bit hurried, as you might say," said Superintendent Bell.
Reggie picked up a paper-knife and fell on his knees. He rose with some fragments of white powder on the blade. "I suppose you saw me jog his arm," he said. "And that's cocaine." He tumbled Lomas's paper-clips out of their box and put the stuff in. "Do you remember the first time we had him here, he took snuff? I thought he was rather odd about it and after it, and I went over to the window where he stood to see if I could find any of the stuff he used. But he'd been careful. He is careful, is Kimball."
"He is damned careful," Lomas agreed, and began to write on a scribbling-pad, looking at each word critically.
There was a pause. "Beg your pardon, sir," said Superintendent Bell. "You talked about the murder being a madman's job. Do you mean Mr. Kimball, being a dope fiend, is not responsible for his actions?"
"O Lord, no. Kimball's not a dope fiend. He uses the stuff same like we use whisky. He's not a slave to it yet. Say he's a heavy drinker. It's just beginnin' to interfere with his efficiency. That's why he left the box behind in the bathroom; that's
