Mr. Griffin. When you saw the man you believed was Ruby, did he indicate to you what kind of business he was in?
Mr. McCullough. No; he didn’t say what kind of business. This is what made the box stay in my mind. I assumed he was a shirt merchant or something, or that it was a sweater. And there, again, the reason for my remembering him was a bit of annoyance on my part that there was outsiders in that row, when it was terribly crowded.
Mr. Griffin. Did this look like the kind of box one would carry clothes or shirts or sweaters in?
Mr. McCullough. Only because I in my own mind related the word Alpacuna to some sort of textile trade name. I had never seen the name before.
Mr. Griffin. I don’t know what Alpacuna is. Have you subsequently learned?
Mr. McCullough. No; and the man at the time was wearing, I believe it is called, a porkpie hat, and he had a topcoat. This, I remembered, because most of the reporters were not wearing topcoats, and certainly were not wearing hats.
Mr. Griffin. What kind of a topcoat did he have on?
Mr. McCullough. It was a dark blue topcoat.
Mr. Griffin. When you rubbed elbows with this man, what was his response in the sense of—was it a polite gentlemanly response?
Mr. McCullough. It was a smile. And the explanation, as I said, that he was not a newspaperman, and that he was a businessman. In other words, he indicated there was no need to apologize, that I had not struck his notes or made him scribble. And he, as everyone along there, was starting into this door, waiting to see what would happen next.