"Why, then the case needn't come to trial!" exclaimed Peter V., joyously. "We can get at Leech."
"Not in a hundred years!" ejaculated Flomerfelt. "Murgatroyd stands behind these indictments in your case, don't you forget that. And even if Leech tries them, Murgatroyd will be there to see.... The Assistant District Attorney won't be able to move out of the beaten track. Your case will come to trial, never fear."
"Well, then, let it come," grunted Wilkinson, a little ruffled by the demeanour of Flomerfelt and his counsel. "But by that time this man Ilingsworth will be dead; we'll shove everything on him."
"I don't believe Ilingsworth will be dead," remarked Morehead. "Indeed I do not."
"Well, even if he isn't," retorted Wilkinson, huskily, "he's wholly discredited. A man who'll murder may commit other crimes; the jury will believe anything of Ilingsworth by the time we're through with him."
Morehead held up his hand.
"Durand and I have gone over this whole thing; have looked up every man on Flomerfelt's list; they won't stick to us, that's all. Wilkinson, your crowd are down on you. And what's more, the Morning Mail now stands behind Ilingsworth, and they're going to stick by him. So if we make this attempt to unload iniquity on Ilingsworth and fail, we'll do two things we don't want to do: One is, we'll make the dangerous admission that there has been iniquity; and the other, psychological problem as it is, is quite as much to be feared——"
"Fire ahead," interrupted Wilkinson.
"I'm banking on Beekman—banking on his personality with his jury, and I don't want the ghost of a doubt to show in his face. That's why I sent him to Europe. Of course we need the evidence he's getting over there—it's good stuff. But I sent him now in order that he shouldn't even read, save in a casual way, this story of Ilingsworth. A true story is a mighty bad story, Peter. So we'll cut Ilingsworth out of this case. If the People produce him—and I'm satisfied they won't—why we'll try to get him on the cross-examination. Durand and I have talked it all over, and our game is going to be a game of denial from start to finish. I doubt whether the People make out the case against you. If they don't we've got 'em nailed. And if the judge sends the case to the jury, we'll deny everything the People put up against us. But it's a lucky thing for you that they'll believe your daughter Leslie."
"It's a pity, Wilkinson," said Flomerfelt, with something like a sneer, "that while you were about it, you didn't swing this thing in a more careful way. Of course it's too late now. You bit off more than you could chew that time! You thought you could get away with the goods—got careless! I've seen many a safecracker do the same thing."