yebrows　and　sipped　at　his　drink。　〃Coffey's　your　problem　now；　isn't　he？〃　Hammersmith　asked。

〃He's　not　much　of　a　problem；〃　I　said。　〃He　doesn't　like　the　dark；　and　he　cries　a　lot　of　the　time；　but　neither　thing　makes　much　of　a　problem　in　our　line　of　work。　We　see　worse。〃

〃Cries　a　lot；　does　he？〃　Hammersmith　asked。　〃Well；　he's　got　a　lot　to　cry　about；　I'd　say。　Considering　what　he　did。　What　do　you　want　to　know？〃

〃Anything　you　can　tell　me。　I've　read　your　newspaper　stories；　so　I　guess　what　I　want　is　anything　that　wasn't　in　them。〃

He　gave　me　a　sharp；　dry　look。　〃Like　how　the　little　girls　looked？　Like　exactly　what　he　did　to　them？〃

〃That　the　kind　of　stuff　you're　interested　in；　Mr。　Edgebe？〃

〃No；〃　I　said；　keeping　my　voice　mild。　〃It's　not　the　Detterick　girls　I'm　interested　in；　sir。　Poor　little　mites　are　dead。　But　Coffey's　not　…　not　yet　…　and　I'm　curious　about　him。〃

〃All　right；〃　he　said。　〃Pull　up　a　chair　and　sit；　Mr。　Edgebe。　You'll　forgive　me　if　I　sounded　a　little　sharp　just　now；　but　I　get　to　see　plenty　of　vultures　in　my　line　of　work。　Hell；　I've　been　accused　of　being　one　of　em　often　enough；　myself。　I　just　wanted　to　make　sure　of　you。〃

〃And　are　you？〃

〃Sure　enough；　I　guess；〃　he　said；　sounding　almost　indifferent。　The　story　he　told　me　is　pretty　much　the　one　I　set　down　earlier　in　this　account　…　how　Mrs。　Detterick　found　the　porch　empty；　with　the　screen　door　pulled　off　its　upper　hinge；　the　blankets　cast　into　one　corner；　and　blood　on　the　step