"What sort of a man is this Indian--Singa--Singa--" began Thong,
hesitatingly.

"Singa Phut is a quiet, studious Indian," answered Darcy. "He has not
lived here very long, but I knew him in New York. He has done business
with me for some years."

"Is he all right--safe--not one of them gars--you know, the fellows
that use a silk cord to strangle you with?" asked Thong, who had some
imagination regarding garroters.

"Not at all like that," said Darcy, and there was the trace of a smile
on his face. "He is a gentleman."

"Oh," said Carroll and Thong in unison.

There came another knock on the side door downstairs. There was less
of a crowd about now, and Mulligan did not have to keep back a rush as
he opened the portal.

"Dr. Warren," reported the policeman, calling upstairs to Carroll and
Thong.

"The county physician," explained Carroll. "Better come down and meet
him, Mr. Darcy. He'll want to ask you some questions. Then we'll have
another go at you. Got to ask a lot of questions in a case like this,"
he half apologized.

"Oh, sure," assented the jewelry worker.