Gilmore nodded.

"I was outrageous put upon! The judge appointed that fellow Moxlow to
defend me! Say, it was a hell of a defense he put up, and I had a friend
who was willin' to swear he'd seen me in the alley back of Mike
Lonigan's saloon cleaning spittoons when old man Murphy said I was in
his chicken house; Moxlow said he wouldn't touch my case except on its
merits, and the only merit it had was that friend, ready and willin' to
swear to anything!" Montgomery shrugged his great slanting shoulders.
"He's too damn perpendicular!"

"He is," agreed Gilmore. "But what's this got to do with what you saw?"

"Not a thing; but it makes me sweat blood whenever I think of the trick
Moxlow served me,--it ain't as if I had no one but myself! I got a
family, see? _I_ can't afford to go to jail,--it ain't as if I was
single!"

"Get back to your starting-point, Joe!" said Gilmore.

"Who do you think killed old man McBride, boss?"

"How should I know?"

"You ain't got any ideas about that?" asked Montgomery.

Gilmore shot him a swift glance.

"I don't know whether I have or not," he replied.