That's the case, isn't it?"
"Yes. That's the case, on the face of it, as you say. But you've forgot
to mention one item."
"What's that?"
"'Bije himself. You knew him pretty well, I can see that. So did I. And
I guess that's why we're both puzzled."
Captain Elisha folded his napkin with care and stood up. Sylvester rose,
also.
"Come downstairs," he said. "We can enjoy our cigars more comfortably
there, and go on with our talk. That is, unless you're in a great
hurry."
"No, I ain't in any special hurry. So I get up to Caroline's in season
for supper--er, dinner, I mean--I don't care. But I don't want to keep
you. You're a busy man."
"This is business. This way, Captain."
The big lounging room of the club, on the first floor, Fifth Avenue
side, was almost empty when they entered it. The lawyer drew two big
chairs near the open fire, rang the bell, and ordered cigars. After
the cigars were lighted and the fragrant clouds of tobacco smoke were
rising, he reopened the conversation. And now, in an easy, diplomatic
way, he took his turn at questioning.
It was pretty thorough pumping, managed with the skill of an experienced
cross-examiner. Captain Elisha, without realizing that he was doing so,
told of his boyhood, his life at sea, his home at South Denboro, his
position in the village, his work as selectman, as member of the school
committee, and as director in the bank.
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