"I didn't, then," I said. Quickly I told him about George Wile and the package of poisoned needles. "He's obviously planning on murdering someone. Maybe at Sarah's last night," I concluded hastily, my eye on the door. "My switching wallets with him stopped that. Now he's got to kill me before he can go ahead with this other murder, or I could put the finger on him."
"Why—didn't—you—say—so—before?" Golfin said, glaring at me with annoyance.
The door splintered a little, the noise sounding like a shot. I took my eyes off Golfin to look, and when I looked back Golfin was darting at me, his hypodermic gadget in his hand and what looked like murder in his eye.
I tried to grab his wrist. This time he was too fast for me. He evaded my clutch and was behind me before I could turn. I felt a sharp pain stab at the base of my skull. I started to turn. The room blurred as a wave of dizziness swept over me....
"Here's your coffee, sir."
I looked at the girl behind the counter, then down at my newspaper. "Thanks," I said. My stomach felt funny. I felt just like a guy I knew once who had a premonition he was going to die. Heartburn, I decided hastily. But I felt nervous.
I took a sip of the hot coffee and tried to concentrate on the paper. Then I became aware of the little man. I felt instantly I had seen him someplace before, but I couldn't place him.
"A package of Camels," he said to the cashier.
"That will be twenty cents," the baldish cashier said.