"They'll get him out on a writ of habeas corpus."
"They? Who's they?"
"His friends. I suppose the man has friends."
"Oh, yes," acquiesced Billy, "the man has friends. Too many friends."
The district attorney looked away. "You'd better let him escape—or something," he suggested brazenly. "We—we mustn't be made ridiculous, you know."
"We? We? Don't get me mixed up with you, Rale. I'm particular who I bracket with, sort of. Another thing, the last time you were in here you went out on your head, remember. Well, lemme point out that you're here, I'm here, so's the door, and history is just the same thing over again."
The close-set little eyes wavered. "I tell you, Wingo, the case looks black for you too."
Billy Wingo rolled and lit a placid cigarette before he spoke. "Black? For me?" Inquiringly.
"I'm afraid so."
"You mean you hope so. Go on."