"Innocent as a baby, I was. Oh, yes, soft as a rotten orange; soft in the head. I stood there holding the old fella up and the little slender guy he scampered like a mouse into the bar of the Brevard House. I soon saw the old guy was all in. I waited one minute, two minutes, I dunno, and then it come to me like a clap that I'd been sold. I pulled the old guy's legs out a little so's he wouldn't fall over on his face, but then darned if he didn't slide out of the seat on his back and crumple up on the floor. But I slammed the door on him and run into the bar. I ast the bar-keep for the little slender guy. 'Just walked through,' he says, 'went out by the side door.' Say, I was sick! "Well, that's all there is to it. It give me such a nasty turn I lost me nerve. I couldn't just bring myself to go back to the flivver with that pore old soft floppy corp in the back. Him walking around on two legs as good as myself, not a half hour before! I stood there lappin' up whiskeys and then you come in. We talked--say, maybe I wasn't glad to have somebody to talk to! and one thing led to another, and I had an impulse to sell the whole outfit to you and like a fool I did. I had ought to have carried the corp direct to the station; they didn't have nothing on me. But I always was an impulsive guy. It has been my ruin!" Greg saw no reason to doubt any part of this story; the details were convincing; moreover they fitted with what he already knew. Evidently the actual murderer, de Socotra's agent, had been thrown into a panic by the cabman's unexpected discovery of the crime. He had fled, and thus de Socotra's plans had been momentarily upset. "What killed the old man?" asked Greg. "Search me," said Hickey. "There was no mark on him that I could see." "Would you recognize the young man with the little black mustache if you saw him again?" "Would I! Night or day; from in front or behind." "Our job must be to find him," said Greg. "It'll be worth something handsome to you if you can run him down." "Who was the poor old guy?" asked Hickey, "a South American millionaire?" "Not exactly. I'll tell you the whole story in time. Can't stop now. Did you claim my baggage on the pier?" Hickey shook his head. Diving into his pocket he produced the crumpled claim checks. "I was afraid you'd catch me if I stopped to claim it." "Good!" said Greg. "These clothes will come in handy. First of all I'll drive to the pier and get them." Hickey put on a make-believe aggrieved air. "Hold on. What do I get out of this? The clothes are mine, ain't they? Part payment for the flivver." "That'll be about all," said Greg grimly. "I didn't contract to buy a hearse, remember." Hickey hastily changed his tune. "All right. All right. You needn't get sore. You can have your old clothes."