CHAPTER XIX—SUSPICION
Muggs apparently was making an effort to speak, but could not collect his wits. Blood was flowing from a wound on the back of his head. He staggered again, and would have fallen had not Verbeck helped him to a chair. Riley, preferring effective methods to kindness, grasped a pail of water and dashed the contents of the pail in Muggs’ face.
“What happened?” the detective demanded.
Muggs sputtered and spat, and sat more erect.
“I’m—all right now,” he gasped.
“Tell us!”
“I—I looked around after you went upstairs—then bent over the stove to arrange the pots. Something smashed me on the head—that’s all I know. I think somebody grabbed me by the coat collar as I started to fall. I woke up and found myself on the floor—and tried to call the boss.”
“That’s all?” demand
