CHAPTER VIII
Expert Opinion“I’m sorry, you fellows. No comment.”
Martin sat on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. His voice was thick and drunken and his thoughts were muddled, but although they had been working on him for some time he had remained adamant. “Forgive me, Campion,” he said with an attempt at a smile, “but do take this friendly cop away. I can’t tell him anything. If he thinks I was committing suicide, right: I was committing suicide.”
“Martin! You can’t behave like this!” Helena had dropped on her knees beside him. “You’re muzzy and you don’t see all the inferences.”
“Inferences? There are no inferences. Everybody scram . . . there’s dear good people. If you want to help, get hold of the island and tell Paggen I’m O.K.”
As Mr. Campion t
