Mr. Todd moved uneasily in his chair.
“Oh, as to that,” he hesitated, “there are all sorts of women, you know. Some of ’em like a man all the better—or appear to—if he—well; if he isn’t too good, you know. I’ve known a woman,” he went on strongly, “to marry a man who’d drink and abuse her, and yet she’d love him and stick to him to the last. There’s something queer about women, when it comes to loving a man. His character doesn’t seem to count for so much as you’d suppose.”
Jarvis assented dryly.
“You think the person in question would be likely to—do as you suggested?”
“It would be a toss-up,” said Mr. Todd thoughtfully, “as to whether he’d settle down into a steady, respectable sort of a citizen, or—” he paused to button his coat painstakingly “—the opposite. I’ll follow him up a while longer,” he went on, “and report from day to day. In a case like this, where you don’t feel like trusting your own judgment, it’s best to let facts talk.”
Mr. Todd looked searchingly into the depths of his hat.
“Facts will talk, you know,” he said confidently. “They’re bound to. Sooner or later, something comes along that tells the story. I’ve shadowed many a person in the past as could tell you that, sir, from behind prison bars.”