It was my turn to shift my eyes.
I looked at the roll I was breaking while I said: “Yes.”
That afternoon a phone call came in from a woman out in the Mission who had seen some highly mysterious happenings and was sure they had something to do with the well-advertised bank robberies. So I went out to see her and spent most of the afternoon learning that half of her happenings were imaginary and the other half were the efforts of a jealous wife to get the low-down on her husband.
It was nearly six o’clock when I returned to the agency. A few minutes later Dick Foley called me on the phone. His teeth were chattering until I could hardly get the words.
“C-c-canyoug-g-get-t-townt-t-tooth-ar-r-rbr-r-spittle?”
“What?” I asked, and he said the same thing again, or worse. But by this time I had guessed that he was asking me if I could get down to the Harbor Hospital.
I told him I could in ten minutes, and with the help of a taxi I did.