don’t know where he was. I don’t know why I never thought he might have.”
“What do you think now?” Noonan asked.
“He—he may have.”
The chief winked at me, an athletic wink in which all his facial muscles took part, and cast a little farther back:
“And you don’t know who called you up?”
“He wouldn’t tell me his name.”
“Didn’t recognize his voice?”
“No.”
“What kind of voice was it?”
“He talked in an undertone, as if afraid of being overheard. I had difficulty understanding him.”
“He whispered?” The chief’s mouth hung open as the last sound left it. His greenish eyes sparkled greedily between their pads of fat.
“Yes, a hoarse whisper.”
The chief shut his mouth with a click, opened it again to say persuasively:
“You’ve heard Thaler talk. …”
The woman started and stared big-eyed from the chief to me.
“It was he,” she cried. “It was he.”