“I’m not so certain he did,” Mason said. “We can look at the thing from Sabin’s viewpoint, and see just what he was trying to do. When you get the whole picture in its proper perspective, and in the light of some new evidence we’ve uncovered, it’s quite consistent with his character.”
“Can you tell me about this new evidence, Chief?”
“No, you tell me about Helen Monteith first.”
“Well, this man started coming to the library. She knew him only as Wallman, a man who was out of work, a man who had no particular trade, and no particular cause to feel friendly toward the world; yet he did. He was interested in books on philosophy and social reform, and he was particularly interested in his fellowmen. He’d sit in the library, sometimes at night, apparently reading a book, but in reality studying the men who were seated around him. And then, whenever he had an opportunity, he’d get acquainted, in an unostentatious manner, and listen. He was always listening.
“Naturally, Helen Monteith, as a librarian, watched him and became interested in him. He started talking to her. Apparently, he had quite a knack of drawing people out, and he got her to tell him a great deal about herself before she realized how much she actually was telling him. And then she fell in love. Because the man was older than she, and because she hadn’t been anticipating anything of the sort, romance sneaked up on her and caught her unaware. She was madly in love with him before she even realized she was in love. And then when she found out that he loved her... Well, Chief, as she told me about it, she said it felt as though her soul was singing all the time.”
“She must have something of a gift for expression,” Mason said, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“No, Chief, it wasn’t an act she was putting on. She was absolutely sincere. She loves to talk about it, because it was such a beautiful thing with her. Despite the shock of the tragedy, and all the disillusionment which has come with finding out he was married, she’s still happy and philosophical about it all. She feels that she finally found happiness in her life. The happiness didn’t last, but she doesn’t seem to feel bitter about that, but, instead, is grateful for the measure of happiness she did have. Of course, when she read the morning paper about the murder, about how Sabin would go around using an assumed name, studying people, browsing in libraries... Well, of course, that made her suspicious. Then she saw the photograph of this mountain cabin and recognized it. But she fought against her fears, trying to convince herself against her better judgment... And then the afternoon paper carried the picture of Sabin, and her worst fears were confirmed.”
“Then you don’t think she killed him?” Mason asked.
“Absolutely not,” she said. “She couldn’t... Well...”
“Why the doubt?” Mason asked, as her voice trailed off into silence.