The coroner pondered.  At length he said: 

“This object that Spatola carried under his coat, now.  Could it have been a bayonet?”

“No, no,” said Berg with conviction.  “It vos too big.  It vos bigger as a half dozen bayonets already.”

This seemed the limit of Berg’s knowledge of the night’s happenings; a few more questions and then Stillman dismissed him.  The door had hardly closed when the telephone rang.  After a few words, the coroner hung up the receiver and turned to his visitors.

“I think,” said he, with a smile of satisfaction, “that I’ve made the police department sit up a little.  They talked to all three of these people before I had them, and didn’t seem to get enough to make a beginning.  But just now,” and the smile grew wider, “I’ve heard that Osborne is on his way to arrest Antonio Spatola.”

CHAPTER VI

ASHTON-KIRK LOOKS ABOUT

Berg was standing in the corridor waiting for the elevator when Ashton-Kirk and Pendleton came out.  The big German mopped his face with a handkerchief, and said apologetically: 

“A man can only tell what he knows, ain’t it?”

Ashton-Kirk looked at him questioningly, but said nothing.

“To begin dot guess-work business when you are talking to the law already, it is dangerous,” stated Berg in an explanatory tone.

“Well,” said Ashton-Kirk, “sometimes a good, pointed guess is of great service, Mr. Berg.  And,” with a laugh, “as I am not the law and not the least dangerous, suppose you make the one that I can see you turning over in your mind.”

“Oh,” said Berg, “you are not the coroner’s office in?”

“No; merely interested in this case, that’s all.”

The delicatessen dealer looked relieved.

“I don’t want to get people in trouble,” said he, guardedly.  “But this is what I guess.  Late every night, about the time I shut up my place, there is a cab comes und by the curbstone stands across the street.  I will not say what is der place it stands in front of; that is not my business.”

“McCausland’s gambling house, perhaps,” suggested Ashton-Kirk.

The big German looked more relieved than ever.

“Ach, so you know about dot place, eh?  All ride.  Now I can speak out and not be afraid to do some harm to nobody.”  He lowered his voice still further.  “Dot cab came last night as I was locking my door up, und stands the curbstone by in front of McCausland’s, waiting for a chob.  Maybe when I goes away home der driver he sees what happened at Hume’s afterwards, eh?”

“Excellent!” said Ashton-Kirk, his eyes alight.  “Thanks for the hint, Mr. Berg.”

The delicatessen dealer lumbered into the elevator which had stopped; Pendleton was about to follow, but his friend detained him, and the car dropped downward without them.

“That cab,” said Ashton-Kirk, “is sure to be a night-hawk; and more than likely it is put up at Partridge’s.  Pardon me a moment.”