“Did you sign it?” I asked.
“No. It was taken down by a stenographer, but they didn’t type it out. They didn’t ask me to sign it.”
I said, “That’s a break.”
“Why? I couldn’t go back on anything I’d said.”
“No. But the fact that they didn’t tie you up with a signature shows they are taking your story at its face value.”
She said, “Mostly they were interested in this man who was leaving the apartment.”
“They would be,” I said.
“They tried to convince me that I’d really seen him coming out of the door of 309, and that I mustn’t say anything to anyone about thinking he might have been coming from another apartment.”
“I see.”
She went on: “The young deputy district attorney was very nice. He explained that in order to convict a man of murder it was necessary for the evidence to show his guilt beyond all reasonable doubt. Well, you know how it is, Donald. There’s a lot of question as to when a doubt is reasonable. Of course, the man might have been coming from another apartment, but it didn’t look like it, and, the more I think of it, the more I’m certain he came from apartment 309. Now then, if I should just make some slip which would indicate I wasn’t dead sure of what I’d seen, a shyster attorney, representing the murderer, would use it to cheat justice. After all, Donald, a citizen has quite a responsibility, and a witness must be willing to take the responsibility of telling things the way he saw them.”