"And do you think me such a fool that I don't know what to do now?" Bofinger cried suddenly. "A third of the estate belongs to Sheila as her dower right."
"And you would bring suit to recover that?" Groll said. The carriage had come to a stop before an office building on Union Square. "I get out here. One moment, are you quite sure that Sheila ever was the wife of Max Fargus?"
"What do you mean," Bofinger cried, halting with one foot on the sidewalk,—aghast at the thought.
"I think, my dear Bofinger," Groll said maliciously, "that a contract of marriage exists between you and Sheila—"
"Trickery!"
"But very difficult to explain away. You have the contract?"
"It is destroyed."
"You are sure?"
"Yes."