“Because I didn’t do them!” Brubitsch said tearfully. “If I didn’t, then I must have alibi!”
“You’d be surprised,” Malone said. “Now, about these murders—”
“Was no murder, not by me,” Brubitsch said firmly. “Was never any killing of anybody, not even by accident.”
“But your two friends say—” Boyd began.
“My two friends are not my friends,” Brubitsch said firmly. “If they tell you about murder and say it was me, they are no friends. I did not murder anybody, I have alibi. I did not even murder anybody a little bit. They are no friends. This is terrible.”
“There,” Malone said reflectively, “I agree with you. It’s positively awful. And I think we might as well give it up. After all, we don’t need your testimony. The other two are enough; they’ll get maybe ten years apiece, but you’re going to get the chair.”
“I will not sit down,” Brubitsch said firmly. “I am innocent. I am innocent like a small child. Does a small child commit a murder? It is ridiculous.”
Boyd picked up his cue with ease. “You might as well give us your side of the story, then,” he said easily. “If you didn’t commit any murders—”
“I am a small child,” Brubitsch announced.
“Okay,” Boyd said. “But if you didn’t commit any murders, just what have you been doing since you’ve been in this country as a Soviet agent?”