“How is that?” I inquired.
“Just as I said,” repeated Kennedy. “Shelby hurried into one of those slot-machine telephone booths in the station and I slipped into the next one. Instead of calling up, I put my ear to the wall and listened. There wasn’t anything much to what he said. It was merely a call to his lawyer, Harvey, telling him that he was on his way down-town. The strange thing came afterward. By that time the station was cleared of those who had come on the train. Shelby happened to glance into the other booth as he left his own and saw me in the act of making a fake telephone call. Instead of going away, he waited. When I came out, he looked about quickly to see if we were alone, then took my arm and hurried me into another part of the station. I didn’t know what was coming, but I was hardly prepared for what he said.”
“And that was?” I asked, eagerly.
“That I work for him, too, in the case,” exclaimed Kennedy, to my utter surprise.
“Work for him?” I repeated. “Was it a stall?”
Kennedy shook his head doubtfully. “I’m not prepared to say. It was either clever or simple. He even asked me to go down-town with him and see Harvey.”
“And you went?”
“Certainly. But I can’t say I learned anything new. I haven’t quite decided whether it was because they knew too much or too little.”
“Are you going to do it? What did you tell him?”
“I told him quite frankly that as long as I had come into the case as I was—without mentioning any names or facts—the best I could do was to see that he got a square deal.”