Mist' Thompsin, but he had dinnah out heah
'bout seben-thuty," he answered.

"Did he leave the club after that?"

"Not 'til de telephone call come whut says Mist' Feldahson ben killt.
Den he lef wif Mist' Brown an' Mist' Paisley."

"You're sure he was here all that time?" I asked.

"No, sah, I ain't suah, but Ah seen him ev'y now an' den thu de
ev'nin'."

"Was he here at quarter past eight?" I questioned.

"He was heah at twenty-fahv minutes past eight, Ah knows, cause Ah done
brought him a drink."

"You're sure of that?"

"Yas, suh! Positive!" the negro answered. "'Cause Ah looked at de
clock raght den an' der."

As near as I could figure, the accident had happened about eight-ten or
eight-fifteen and the bridge was six miles away from the club. Woods
couldn't have been at the bridge at the time of the tragedy and got
back to the club by eighty twenty-five. Still, he might have had an
accomplice.

"Thank you, Jackson," I said, giving him the money. "Just forget that
I asked you any questions!"

The darky chuckled. "Ah done fohgot 'em befoh you evah asted 'em, suh.
Thank you, suh!"

As I passed into the big, central living-room, Paisley came in.

"What was this I saw in _The Sun_?" he asked.

"The sort of rot that nasty sheet always prints," I said.

"Nothing to it of course. I thought not. You don't feel like golfing?"

I shook my head. "Not to-day, old chap. By the way, were you with
Frank Woods when the news of Jim's death reached the club?"

"Yes--why?" he asked.

"You won't think it too strange if I ask you how he appeared to take
it?" I said, trying to make my remark seem as casual as possible.
Seeing the puzzled expression on his face, I added: "I know it is a
peculiar thing to ask, but please don't think any more about it than
you can help, and just answer."

"Why--" Paisley began, a little flustered, "why he took it just the way
the rest of us took it, I suppose. I don't remember exactly."

"Did he seem surprised?" I questioned.

"Of course," Paisley answered,

"He didn't seem relieved?"

"Say, what the devil are you driving at, Thompson?" Paisley burst out.

I saw I could get nothing from him so I left him looking after me with
a perplexed and somewhat indignant gaze. As a detective it seemed I
might make a good plumber. I knew very well he would not repeat my
questions, but it would be just like good old Paisley to worry himself
to death trying to solve them.

I