“For what?” questioned Jimmy.
“To shoot him!” exclaimed Alfred.
“What!” gasped Jimmy, almost losing his footing.
Alfred mistook Jimmy's concern for anxiety on his behalf.
“Oh, I'll be acquitted,” he declared. “Don't you worry. I'll get my tale of woe before the jury.”
“But I say,” protested Jimmy, too uneasy to longer conceal his real emotions, “why kill this one particular chap when there are so many others?”
“He's the only one she's ever lunched with, ALONE,” said Alfred. “She's been giddy, but at least she's always been chaperoned, except with him. He's the one all right; there's no doubt about it. He's the beginning of the end.”
“His own end, yes,” assented Jimmy half to himself. “Now, see here, old man,” he argued, “I'd give that poor devil a chance to explain.”
“Explain!” shouted Alfred so sharply that Jimmy quickly retreated. “I wouldn't believe him now if he were one of the Twelve Apostles.”
“That's tough,” murmured Jimmy as he saw the last avenue of honourable escape closed to him.