Sergeant Klinger helps a staggering Roger Thornhill to his feet as they walk out of the courtroom to get to a telephone.
“Over here,” says Klinger.
“Oh, thank you,” replies Thornhill.
“You’d better make it your lawyer,” says Klinger.
“BOnneville Eight One Oh Nine Eight,” says Thornhill.
“What am I, a telephone operator?” asks Klinger, moving Thornhill into a small room with a desk and a phone.
“BOnneville Eight One Oh Nine Eight,” repeats Thornhill. Klinger relents and dials the number. Roger straightens his tie.
“Hello?” says a voice on the telephone.
“Just a minute, please,” replies Klinger, handing the phone to Roger. “Here,” he says.
“Oh, thank you,” replies Roger, and puts the phone to his ear. He coughs loudly. “Hello, Mother? Mother, this is your son, Roger Thornhill. Yeah. Wait a minute, I’ll find out.”
Roger looks at Klinger. “Where am I?” asks Thornhill.
“Glen Cove Police Station,” replies Klinger.
“Glen Cove Police Station,” repeats Thornhill. “No, no, Mother – I have not been drinking! No, no – – these two men, they – they poured a whole bottle of bourbon into me! – – – No, they didn’t give me a chaser!”