9:41 Read Free Page B

call-box on a lamppost near the corner to report to the station house. The other was looking at her, trying to make her more comfortable and, at the same time, was furtively glancing around for some sign of the actor of the act of violence. He was bent over her, now crouching over her, trying to comfort and yet talk to her, his eyes were darting back and forth over the faces of the buildings, now covered with little squares of white on the shadows, and re-shadowed with the forms of people. People swarmed to their windows to see what was the matter, what was down in the street, to see a scene so base and yet so profound taking place.
    Ever searching the policeman’s eye came to rest on a little black space of window, unlit by a curious square of light, and there in the window was Chris.
    Never moving, Chris was still sitting there silently, and yet very aware of what was happening in front of him. The ambulance from Columbus Hospital, which was only down the street, droned its way to the spot on which the woman was dying. The attendants came to help the woman, and as they did, the policeman who had been staring at the little spot where the white beard showed forth from the reflection of the moon, rose and approached the window. Chris, unflinching, sat there to greet him. I opened my window to hear if I could what was going on.
    The police were asking him the routine questions as to his name, and if he lived there, and had he seen anything happen outside. He said he hadn’t. “Have you been sitting here all the while?”, the policeman said. He had, answered Chris. But then you must have seen what was happening, was the woman alone? Was she walking with any one? Chris reiterated that he had seen nothing.
    The police were baffled by his insistence of innocence, and became very irate at the unreasonable resistance of this crazy old coot who sat at his window and minded everyone else’s business, but didn’t know a damn thing when he should. Another squad car came up as the ambulance with the woman inside pulled away. One of the policemen who was questioning Chris went over to talk to the police that were inside the car. After a short talk, the police in the car came out and walked over to Chris, they talked to him and then told him that he would have to come to the station house for more questioning. He agreed to go and to help out as much as he could.
    I ran from the window, dressed hurriedly and ran down to help Chris in any way that I could. Being the only friend he had, I felt I should. I arrived just as the door of the apartment building was opening, and Chris was coming out. The people who had gathered at their windows were almost reaching a fury pitch, for this was the first time that any of them had ever seen more than the hairy apparition at the window. He walked out and said he was ready to go, I called to him and my presence seemed to make him more calm, although to others, he outwardly looked as composed as ever. He put his arm out to me and I held him and walked with him toward the police car. The police were walking on either side of us. He was telling me that he had seen nothing. He said he heard nothing but footsteps and a shot, but had seen none of it.
    As we approached the police car, his body lurched forward, as the violating sound returned to haunt the silently watching buildings. His body pulled against my arm with a tautness and a jerking that threw me off balance. He became limp in my arms, which I spread to support him. The police began to run for cover, looking for the assassin. I was in the middle of the street trying to support Chris’s sagging body, and lower his inert form as slowly as I could to the ground. Chris was dead, never could he tell of the spectacle he had seen, of the murder, or of the murderer, nor could he ever, thought I, poor Chris, poor wonderful, blind, Chris.

CONNIE
    A woman walked towards us; not an old woman, but one who looked as if she already had