Which proved to be an unadulterated lie. Fifteen minutes later I overheard Bailey—this was out at the factory—say to Marston—
“Well, did you tear the town loose last night?”
“Nah—nothing doing,” rasped Marston in return.
There was nothing for us to do at the factory—they were all running around ragged out there anyway—so as we left it I herded Bailey to one side. Marston had left by himself, but I wanted the conversation to be private.
“Marston living with you?” I asked him.
“Yes, sir,” said the slim young Bailey.
“He was out late last night, was he?”
“Yes, sir. About three A. M.”
“I see. Just wanted to know. Come in drunk?”
Bailey was troubled. He didn’t want to tell tales, I could see. So I went on: