“Yes.” Slim was very self-composed.
“Did you, on the night of August 26, observe him going into an apartment house at this address?”
“Yes.”
And so on—but never a word of where Slim was when he saw all this. Very clever, I thought, but when I looked at those sharp-eyed young fellows at Tom Ellingbery’s table, I knew it’d never get by.
Presently Mr. Youngquist said, “You may inquire.” I held my breath. But one of the young fellows looked up and said, “Are you going to put his partner on?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Youngquist.
“With that understanding, there are no questions of this witness, your honor.”
I jumped as if I had sat down on an electric griddle. It was plain even to me; they figured Slim was pretty sharp, so they’d wait for me, and in the meantime they wouldn’t tip me off by asking Slim any questions. I wished I could have held my breath for about three days.
I got along all right with Mr. Youngquist. I was careful not to say anything about where I had stood or sat or walked. I said, “Yes, I followed him,” because I did follow him with my eyes. Then Mr. Youngquist turned to the young fellow and said, “You may inquire.”
The young fellow got up slowly and looked at me easily and gently, but it was still August. I was sweating. I knew it was coming. I looked at Slim. Slim was sweating too. I looked at Mr. Youngquist. He wiped the perspiration from his forehead.