The delicatessen dealer unfolded his hands and waved them significantly.
"I was aguainted with him—yes. But I was not friendly with him—no. He is dead, ain't it? Und it's not right to say someding about the dead. But he was no friend of mine."
"I understand. But tell me, Mr. Berg, how late do you keep your place open?"
"In the summertime—seven o'clock. But after dose theaters open, I stays me on the chob till twelve, or later somedimes. There is one—two—three what you call burlesque places, right by me; and no sooner do they close up, than right away those actor peoples come to buy. I do a goot business, so I keep open."
"Then you were there until midnight last night?"
"More later than that yet."
"Was there any movement of any sort about Hume's place? Did you see or hear anything?"
The great red face of Berg took on a solemn look.
"It is maybe not ride that I should say somedings," complained he. "But if the law will not excuse me, I will say it, if it makes some more trouble or not."
"It is vitally necessary," stated the young coroner, firmly, "that you tell me everything you know about this matter."