He says it kind of loud and sharp, like he wanted to get it out before he died, because he died right then, almost before he’d got it out. That’s the way it was, chief, but the rock wasn’t worth no—”
“Damn the rock,” Noonan barked. “And stop bleeding on my rug.”
MacSwain hunted in his pocket for a dirty handkerchief, mopped his nose and mouth with it, and jabbered on:
“That’s the way it was, chief. Everything else was like I said at the time, only I didn’t say anything about hearing him say Max done it. I know I hadn’t ought to—”
“Shut up,” Noonan said, and pressed one of the buttons on his desk.
A uniformed copper came in. The chief jerked a thumb at MacSwain and said: