“I done tol’ you all dot in Chicago dot time.”
“Very well. You’ll give that in as evidence, every word of it, and swear to it?”
“Yas.”
“I don’t more than half believe this is the man. You know it’s life imprisonment for him if it’s proved on him, and you’d better be sure you have the right one. I’m in for justice, and you’re in for the money, that’s plain.”
“Yas, I tank you lak it money, too.”
“I’ll not put him in irons to-night unless you give me 353 some better reason for your assertion. Why is he the man?”
“I seen heem dot tam, I know. He got it mark on hees head vere de blud run dot tam, yust de sam, all right. I know heem. He speek lak heem. He move hees arm lak heem. Yas, I know putty good.”
“You’re sure you remember everything he said––all you told me?”
“Oh, yas. I write it here,” and he drew a small book from his pocket, very worn and soiled. “All iss here writed.”
“Let’s see it.” With a smile the Swede put it in Stiles’ hand. He regarded it in a puzzled way.