"Get him some water,--here!"
Chisholm punched young Menard; he got up, and pushed the big white porcelain water pitcher across the table. But Reder waved it aside.
"Nefer mind," he said. "What was dot you vas sayin' a minute back?"
"Why, Mr. Reder, we said the judge said we could infer. Don't you remember?"
Church looked into his face hopefully, and waited.
Broadwell got slowly to his feet, and moved toward the little group deliberately, importantly, as if he alone could explain.
"Here, have my chair, Mr. Reder," said Broadwell with intense politeness.
"No, nefer mind," said Reder, afraid to move.
"What the judge said," Broadwell began, "was simply this. He said that if it was to be inferred from all the facts and circumstances adduced in evidence--"
"Besides," Church broke in, "that old woman said he was the fellow, down at the police station--it was in the paper, don't you remember?"