Mrs. Smitz leaned forward in her chair.
“Murdered Henry?” she cried. “He never murdered Henry. I murdered him.”
“Now, ma’am,” said O’Toole politely, “I hate to contradict a lady, but you never murdered him at all. This man here murdered him, and I’ve got the proof on him.”
“I murdered him!” cried Mrs. Smitz again. “I drove him out of his right mind and made him kill himself.”
“Nothing of the sort,” declared O’Toole. “This man Wiggins murdered him.”
“I did not!” exclaimed Mr. Wiggins indignantly. “Some other man did it.”
It seemed a deadlock, for each was quite positive. Mr. Gubb looked from one to the other doubtfully.
“All right, take me back to jail,” said Mr. Wiggins. “You look up the case, Mr. Gubb; that’s all I came here for. Will you do it? Dig into it, hey?”
“I most certainly shall be glad to so do,” said Mr. Gubb, “at the regular terms.”
O’Toole led his prisoner away.