Patsy got upon his feet and crossed to the window. He stood there for a moment and then turned about, delivering himself of an opinion which was by no means original, since it has been voiced since time immemorial by thousands of others. He said:
“I’m no lawyer, and I’m glad that I am not; but I do want to say this: I think that many of the rules practiced in a court, governing the admission of evidence, are far from right.”
“Why?” asked the detective, smiling.
“Because, as in this affair, every bit of testimony we relied on relating to the engagement between Lenore Remsen and Jimmy was ruled out; every question that Jimmy was asked relating to this wife of his, who is said to have been a countess, or a duchess, or something of the sort, was ruled out. We don’t know a thing about that, officially.”
“Has it ever occurred to you, Chick, or you, Patsy, to ask who and what that woman, who is now Jimmy’s wife, has been in the past?”
“It had not—until this moment,” confessed Chick.
“I thought of her only as another possible victim of Jimmy’s,” said Patsy.
“Well,” said the detective slowly, “in my opinion you will find that she is a product of the underworld, just as Jimmy is one. This whole thing was a conspiracy planned and hatched between those two. This wife consented to leave him, for the time being, that there might be no obstacle in the way of his marrying the millions that Lenore Remsen would have brought to him.
“After Jimmy had succeeded in getting his clutches upon the aforesaid millions by divorcing the wife who has been called Juno, and marrying Lenore for her money, Lenore would have been put out of the way quietly, and then Jimmy and Juno would have come together again to remarry and enjoy the great fortune which could be obtained only by sacrificing the life and happiness of a sweet girl.”
“Gee, Nick!” said Chick. “If I thought that——”