A look of fear overspread the worn and innocent face.
“I don’t go there no more. The po-lice, they take there.”
“But you had gone there before?”
“Not to play; no.”
“Not to play? Are you sure?”
The German considered painfully. “There vass no feet in the window,” he explained, brightening.
Upon that surprising phrase Average Jones pondered. “You were not to play unless there were feet the window,” he said at length. “Was that it?”
The musician assented.
“It does look like a signal to show that Linder was in,” mused the interrogator. “Do you know Linder?”
“I don’t know nothing only to play the B-flat trombone,” repeated the other patiently.