"You are an honest man."
The sunken eyes wavered. "At least I never supposed they would arrest Lennox. How could I?"
"No one could have supposed it. Besides, in your own conscience you were justified, were you not?"
"You know about that, too?"
"Yes, I know about that."
The Rigoletto disc now had been replaced by another, one from which a voice brayed, a voice nasal, jocular, felonious.
"That beast ought to be shot," Jones added.
The musician raised himself a little. "You don't misjudge her, do you?"
Jones, annoyed at the swill tossed about, had turned from him. He turned back. "Believe me, Mr. Cara, there is no one for whom I have a higher respect."
A spasm seized the musician. For a moment, save for the effort at breath, he was silent. Then feebly he said: "I wish she would hurry."