“How did you get back to the street?”
“I followed along the fence, saw the lights of a pool room, walked through the back way, and out to the street.”
“Men in the back of the pool room?”
“Yes.”
“Playing pool?”
“Two or three of them were.”
“Did they look you over pretty carefully?”
“I’ll say.”
“Think they’d remember you?”
“Oh, I suppose so,” she said, her voice showing her weariness. “The way they looked me over, if I’d had a mole the size of a pinhead just below the knee on my left leg, they’d have remembered it for twenty years. Does that answer your question, Mr. Detective?”