Spotty Davis came next. He trembled visibly as he rose, and his parted lips, revealing the space of the two missing teeth in his upper jaw, seemed to quiver. Glancing furtively from side to side, but never once looking straight toward Stone, he finally let his gaze rest upon the floor.
“Young man,” said Lawyer Marsh, “you were at the football field when Stone appeared last evening and spoke to Roger Eliot, were you not?”
“Ye-yes,” faltered Spotty faintly.
“Speak a bit louder, witness,” commanded the judge.
“When Stone left the field you followed him, didn’t you?” asked Marsh.
“I—I dunno; I guess so. I never noticed.”
“Do you mean to say that you did not see Stone when he departed from the field?”
“Why, nun-no; I saw him. I guess ’t’wa’n’t long after he left before I got out. There wa’n’t no use hangin’ round longer, for Eliot had tole me he didn’t want me on the team any more.”
“On leaving the field, whither did you go?”
“To the gym.”