Denson. He says he's of the homicide squad, Arthur. Mercy, what does he mean?"
Arthur laughed. "Oh, he just wants Calvin," he assured her and after replying to Denson he explained: "A homicide squad is a group of men from the central detective bureau in the city who work on cases where somebody has been killed. They've a murder case to-night down in the Wilson Avenue district—a girl, Ketlar's wife, they say."
"Ketlar?" asked Emily.
"The fellow who has the dance band. We've one of his records."
"Oh, I know him—that nice boy with light hair!" Emily cried. "Why, has he a wife?"
"Apparently, since he seems to have killed her."
"That nice boy!" Emily exclaimed in horror.
Todd hurried into the hall and to Clarke's door, where he knocked and opened, without waiting for answer. He roused Calvin by seizing his shoulder.
"You've a call from the city, old man. Chap named Denson wants you."
Clarke sat up, blinking but not confused. Arthur's voice and the squares of moonlight through the open windows immediately reminded him where he was; and Denson's name brought him coherently to business.
"Thanks," he said, in his quiet, steady way. "Denson's holding the wire?"
"No; I told him to give you time to dress. He'll call again in five minutes. A girl's shot—murder, pretty clearly. She's Ketlar's wife."
"Ketlar?" asked Clarke.
"He has a dance band at the Echo Garden and he makes those jazz records."
"Oh, yes."
"He did it, apparently."
