I kept looking for him. Then things happened fast. I saw the little man sliding away from the man who had let me into the house. George Wile. I took a step after the little man. My eyes jerked back to George when he uttered a scream and clutched at his back. He fell forward, his arms and legs jerking.
I pulled my eyes away, searching for the little man. A crowd was rushing around George Wile. I heard someone—a woman—scream, "My God! He's dead!"
I saw the little man at the front door. He slipped out as I pushed through the crowd toward him. I went as fast as I dared. When I reached the sidewalk I saw him running toward the drugstore.
I ran after him, gaining rapidly. He looked over his shoulder and saw me. Then—
He just vanished. Right in front of my eyes. He couldn't have darted off the walk into the bushes.
I stopped, not believing my eyes, and started searching the lawns carefully. A couple of minutes later I heard sirens coming toward this part of town.
I hid between two houses and watched the police cars pull up in front of Sarah Fish's place. Then I went to the bus line.
A few hours later, after a lot of riding around town I climbed up to the sidewalk from the subway. A night extra was being shouted.
"Big murdah in Evanston!"
And I knew before I read the paper that it would give my name as the murdered man. Premonition. I was beginning to believe in it now.