He grinned wolfishly. “Uh-huh,” he said, “but I’d guess he was Captain Jacobi, master of La Paloma .” He picked up his hat and put it on. He looked thoughtfully at the dead man and then around the room.
“Hurry, Sam,” the girl begged.
“Sure,” he said absentmindedly, “I’ll hurry. Might not hurt to get those few scraps of excelsior off the floor before the police come. And maybe you ought to try to get hold of Sid. No.” He rubbed his chin. “We’ll leave him out of it awhile. It’ll look better. I’d keep the door locked till they come.” He took his hand from his chin and rubbed her cheek. “You’re a damned good man, sister,” he said and went out.