“Of course they will have to prove their case, won’t they?” she said.
He gave a scornful laugh. “Oh, they will do that all right,” he said.
“Do you mean whether he is guilty or not? But that is too dreadful.”
“If a man once gets into the clutches of the Law it doesn’t matter much whether he’s guilty or not. He’s about as much chance as a fly in a spider’s net.”
“What an awful thing. But you were a barrister once yourself?”
“That’s why I say that,” he answered with meaning.
“But we must not keep on talking about this, it will make you morbid.”
“Come on, Mabel, we are waiting for you,” came from the table.
Collins strolled out into the garden where a bright moon was shining. What should he do? Let things slide altogether, and the Law take its course? That was best, but a curious streak of vanity and desire for mystery goaded him on to fresh research. There were other problems beside the main plot which called for solution.
There was the curious disappearance of Lewis. And what about Eric Sanders? Besides he grudged an easy triumph for the oily Boyce. He would like to upset his apple-cart.