Goldberger looked him over carefully as he stepped into the room; but
there could be no two opinions about Parks. He had been with Vantine
for eight or ten years, and the earmarks of the competent and
faithful servant were apparent all over him.
"Do you know this man?" Goldberger asked, with a gesture toward the
body.
"No, sir," said Parks. "I never saw him till about an hour ago, when
Rogers called me downstairs and said there was a man to see Mr.
Vantine."
"Who is Rogers?"
"He's the footman, sir. He answered the door when the man rang."
"Well, and then what happened?"
"I took his card up to Mr. Vantine, sir."
"Did Mr. Vantine know him?"
"No, sir; he wanted to know what he wanted."
"What _did_ he want?"
"I don't know, sir; he couldn't speak English hardly at all--he was
French, I think."
Goldberger looked down at the body again and nodded.
"Go ahead," he said.
"And he was so excited," Parks added, "that he couldn't remember what
little English he did know."
"What made you think he was excited?"
"The way he stuttered, and the way his eyes glinted. That's what
makes me think he just come in here to kill hisself quiet like--I
shouldn't be surprised if you found that he'd escaped from
somewhere.
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