The Negro and the Policeman

The policeman caught something in the tone, and looked over with truculent eyes. Tom turned his head, but kept his hands firm on Wilson's body. He says he knows the car that did it. It was a yellow car. Some dim impulse moved the policeman to look suspiciously at Tom. Picking up Wilson like a doll, Tom carried him into the office, set him down in a chair, and came back. If somebody will come here and sit with him, he snapped authoritatively. The two men standing closest, glanced at each other, and went unwillingly into the room.