Driscoll took a deep breath and started to say something. Mason said, “Shut up, Driscoll.”
Rosalind Prescott said, “I fought with my husband.He was going to divorce me. He found a letter Jimmy had written. The letter was capable of two interpretations. He chose the worst. He left the house to go see a lawyer. I became panic-striken and did the worst possible thing. I telephoned for Jimmy, to tell him what had happened, and to tell him I was leaving. Then Jimmy got hotheaded and came tearing out to the house. And, to cap the climax, carried a gun, with some fanciful idea of protecting me from Walter. Walter’d threatened to kill me if I tried to claim any share of his business.”
“You’d told Driscoll that?” Mason asked.
“Yes, over the telephone.”
“Okay,” Mason said, “remember it. Driscoll thought you were in actual danger. You probably were in actual danger. He carried a gun only for the purpose of protecting you. Now go ahead.”
“Jimmy came out there. We were in the solarium. I tried to talk things over sensibly with him. Jimmy — well, Jimmy lost his head and took me in his arms, and I—”
“Yes, I know,” Mason said. “Mrs. Snoops described the scene to me.”
“How did it sound when she described it?”
“Passionate,” Mason said tersely.
She met his eyes frankly and said, “All right, it was.”