"It may—we don't know!"
"We don't know anything. But there is a certain logic which is irrefutable—and, confound it! man—what are we going to do now?"
Leverage refused to meet his friend's eyes. "We-e-ll, David—suppose you tell me what you think we should do?"
"We ought to—but it's rotten! Absolutely rotten!"
"Trouble with you, David," said Leverage kindly—"is that you're too damned human!"
"I can't help it. It isn't my fault. And if I was sure that Naomi Lawrence was the woman in that taxi, I'd arrest her immediately. But I'm not sure, Leverage—and neither are you. Let's admit that it's a ten to one bet—we're still not positive. And I wonder if you realize what her arrest would mean?"
"What?"
"We can't arrest a woman of her prominence socially without a reason—and a darned good reason. Therefore, when we arrest her we have to tell the public why we're doing it. And what do we tell 'em? That she was—or might have become—Warren's light-o'-love! That she was going to elope with him!"
"And yet, David—all of that is probably true."
"Probably—yes. But not positively. We haven't proved anything. And once we explode that social bomb—we've started something that she'll never live down. We've done more than that—we've played the devil with Evelyn's chance of happiness. That kid will be in a swell position when the scandal-mongers get hold of the gossip about her sister. Can't you hear 'em—babbling about it being in the blood?"