stuff like that," he demanded, "when we've got real trouble right here under our nose?"
"I want you to answer my question!"
"What question?" he equivocated.
"I want to know if you knew that just what happened in your office the other afternoon was going to happen?"
"Well, what about it?" he evaded.
"There's just one thing about it; if that whole thing was a frame-up, I want to understand just what it was for?"
Big Ben tried to brush me aside.
"Say, Baddie, you'll sure make one grand little sleuth, with that grand jury style o' yours!"
"What was it for?" I repeated.
My one good eye met both of his somewhat puzzled eyes. Then for an uncertain moment he looked back over his shoulder, toward the shadowy hall. Then he looked back at me.
"It was for the sake of your immortal soul," was his sudden and somewhat reminiscent answer. "And if that's not as clear as mud to you, you'd better ask young Washburn himself, for I see he's just coming in through that door!"
