"Sounds all right," said the policeman. "I'll take a look at the man."

"This way, if you please," said Kitty, readily. "You come, too,
sir," she added as the squat man hesitated. Kitty wanted to watch his
expression when he saw Johnny Two-Hawks.

Seed on rocky soil; nothing came of the little artifice. No Buddha's
graven face was less indicative than the squat man's. Perhaps his face
was too sore to permit mobility of expression. The drollery of this
thought caused a quirk in one corner of Kitty's mouth. The squat man
stopped at the foot of the bed with the air of a mere passer-by and
seemed more interested in the investigations of the policeman than in
the man on the bed. But Kitty knew.

"A fine bang on the coco," was the policeman's observation. "Take
anything out of his pockets?"

"They were quite empty. I've sent for a military surgeon. He may arrive
at any moment."

"This fellow live across the way?"

"That's the odd part of it. No, he doesn't."

"Then what was he doing there?"

"Probably awaiting the return of the real tenant who hasn't returned up
to this hour"--with an oblique glance at the squat man.

"Kind o' queer. Say, you stay here and watch the lady while I scout
round."