"I found it in a cabinet, while I was searching for the letters," he answered, his face betraying no expression.
"Why did you tell me that in the first place?" demanded Kennedy, suddenly switching the subject. "Did you have any motive?"
"Motive? I thought you ought to know—that's all. He's not my client, you know."
"But he's a friend of your client and—"
"Say, Kennedy, I know how Doyle has been hounding that poor little woman. If you want the truth, I didn't tell Doyle because it wouldn't do any good. I thought you could be fair."
"Well, what's your opinion?"
"I haven't any opinion. I know what I found. It's for you to have an opinion. Besides, I won't sacrifice a client for a friend of the client. Get me?" he asked, pointedly.
"She has won you, hasn't she?" asked Kennedy, somewhat, I thought, in Doyle's style.
Chase looked at him a minute. "Say, Kennedy," he returned, "I've always regarded you as something more than the rest of us."
He stopped as though he would have said more, but considered he had said enough.