Judge Walbrough chuckled again.
"Stupid people always think in grooves, don't they, Spofford? Don't you suppose that Miss Deane might have told me an amusing practical joke that she had played upon Mr. Vandervent?"
"Yes; she might have," sneered Spofford. "It was funny, at that. So funny that she fainted when she played it. Perhaps that was part of the joke, though."
Judge Walbrough now became the alert lawyer.
"Spofford, does Mr. Vandervent know of this—er—independent investigation of yours?" he asked.
The detective shook his head.
"He'll know in the mornin', though. And if he won't listen, there's others that will."
"Certainly," said the judge. "If you have something to say. But, before you say it, you'd like to be quite certain of your facts, wouldn't you?"
Spofford nodded; his forehead wrinkled. Himself cunning, he was the sort that always is trying to figure out what lies behind another's statement. And that sort always thinks that it will do something cunning. He wasn't so far wrong in this particular instance.
"And, as I understand it, you make the charge of murder against Miss Deane because she played a joke upon Mr. Vandervent, and because an elevator-man claims to recognize her. His recognition doesn't justify an accusation of murder, you know."