“Simply this,” Rodney Cuff said. “This witness has a habit of fighting when he’s drunk. It’s been a matter of argument between him and his wife. This time he’d been beaten into unconsciousness, had to go to a doctor to have his face dressed, and didn’t want to go home and face the music. So he was standing rather uncertainly on Fourteenth Street near the comer of Alsace Avenue when the accident occurred. I want to show he was there at the time, and show why he was there.”
“All right,” Weyman said, in a surly voice, “that’s right. I was there. So what?”
“You could see into Walter Prescott’s house?”
“I could see through some of the windows on the Fourteenth Street side of the house.”
“Could you see the little hallway where the telephone’s located?”
“Yes, I could see that.”
“Did you see Mr. Driscoll using the telephone?”
There was a moment of tense silence, when Weyman said reluctantly, “I seen a man standing there, telephoning. He had his back turned, though.”
“Now you were standing there when the accident took place?”
“Yes.”