"Yes, I had a short talk with him a while ago. He was then at the station waiting for the train which Karkowsky was to take. And," continued Fuller, "he told me of something more. It seems while he was waiting at the Lowe Street place for Karkowsky to make a move, he thought he'd like to know who had the Pole on the 'phone and put him into such a state of mind.
"So he called the operator. 'This is such and such a number,' he says. 'What number was that who just called me?'
"'It was so and so number,' says the girl, after a little.
"It was a tavern on Fordham Road about a block from Morse's," said Fuller. "The barkeeper answered. The only person he'd seen using the telephone was a young fellow who talked a foreign language--a Pole who lived at Morse's--the place he said where the man was killed a few nights ago. That was enough for Burgess; so he thanked the man and hung up."
"Drevenoff has heard something," smiled Ashton-Kirk. "Altogether he seems a marvelously well-posted young man."
There was some further talk between the two; then Fuller went out and Ashton-Kirk continued to stand by the window, gazing down at the thronging, chaffering, noisy crowd. Large horses drew small loads, while small men staggered under large ones; heady cries summoned those at a distance to the spots where bargains in faded vegetables or decaying fish were to be had; the stone steps of the houses were filled with men in hard hats and upturned coat collars; women with their heads wrapped in knitted shawls peered out between the folds in stolid wonder.
At length he turned from the window, sat down in the wide-armed chair and lighted the German pipe; clouds began to gather above his head and to curl into the outer air; the rumble of wheels, the outcries of the drivers and hucksters, the undertone of those cautiously sparring for the advantage in a trade, stole into the room; however, he smoked on, oblivious. But, when his pondering seemed at its deepest and the corrugations between his eyes the most prominent, he suddenly struck the table a blow with his palm and leaped up.
"That's it," he cried, "that's it! What an idiot I was not to think of it before."
Putting aside the pipe he took down a directory and began turning the pages rapidly. Now and then he made a rapid note upon a block of paper. Then he pushed the book away, descended the steps two at a time, and in the lower hall put on his hat. Stumph, hurrying to be of some service, reached the hall just as the street door slammed; and through a window he saw Ashton-Kirk, with eager tread, hurrying up the street.