The lawyer’s hand, making its little marks, stopped—and went on. “They were at Merwin’s—together?” he said.
“Everybody goes to Merwin’s,” said the man. “It wasn’t their being there; it was the way they looked when I saw ’em.... They were sitting in one of them little alcove places, you know—”
Eldridge nodded. Yes—he knew.
“The curtains were open—wide open,” said the man. “Anybody could ’a’ looked in. There wasn’t anything wrong about it. But I saw their faces—both of ’em—and I knew.... They were just sitting quiet—the way people do when they’re alone.... There’s something different about the way people sit—when they’re alone—by themselves—I don’t know as you’ve ever noticed it?”
“I have noticed it,” said Eldridge. “Quiet and happy—” said the man, “and not talking—and not needing to talk.” He took up his hat. “Well—you know where to find me. I shan’t bother you like this again——” He stood up.
Eldridge held out a hand. “I am glad you told me. It helps—to understand—the case.”
The man’s thick face looked at him. “I don’t understand it myself,” he said, “but I’ve got to go through with it.”