It paused shortly as Garth entered. The huge man turned slowly in his chair. His eyes, somnolent as a rule, fixed Garth with a lively reproach.
"Shut the door," he grumbled.
Garth obeyed.
"Here's a pretty mess! Why did you bring him in at all?"
"The chink?" Garth asked mildly.
"No," the inspector roared. "Queen Lilliokulani! Who do you suppose I mean? How many mugs have you brought in since I saw you last? Maybe you thought the big Chinese population was unhealthy."
"I never dreamed he'd do that," Garth protected himself.
"Why didn't you warn the boys to keep an eye on him?" the inspector demanded.
Garth threw up his hands.
"How could I tell? I only brought him in on a chance. I knew you were after the funny medicine crowd. He was up to some queer business last night, and I thought he looked the type."
"Yes," the inspector agreed drily, "he certainly looked the type, so much so that I'd gamble that wizzened brain of his held all I want to know."
He seized a paper weight and commenced to toss it ponderously from fist to fist.
"That's what you've let get away from you. Maybe you'll be accommodating enough to tell me how you happened to pick him up."
Garth glanced questioningly at the woman.
