took his cigar from his mouth: [Pg 133] [Pg 133] “Of course the woman’s the first person you’d think of. She had the necessary provocation and the state of mind. But the way she came in and told them—as Mr. Bassett describes it—doesn’t look to me like a guilty person.” “Why not?” “Sounds too genuine, too like real excitement.” “Don’t you think it’s natural to get excited if you’ve killed some one?” “Yes, but not just that way.” Williams leaned over the arm of his chair: “You got to remember something about these people, Rawson—and it counts big—they’re all actors.” Bassett spoke up quickly: “No, she wasn’t acting. You’d have known that if you’d seen her. What she did was natural—a woman suffering from a fearful shock.” “Couldn’t an actor put that on?” “Yes, some could, but I’m certain she wasn’t.” “When Stokes came into the room after the shot,” said Rawson, “how did he behave?” [Pg 134] [Pg 134] “He seemed all right. But I can’t honestly say that I noticed him much. The light was fading and I was so irritated by the thought that some one had been shooting that I didn’t pay any attention to him.” “Oh, rubbish!” Williams made a rolling motion in the scoop of the big chair. “You can’t suspect the man; he was in love with her. He didn’t want to kill her, he wanted to keep her alive.” “Men do kill the women they love, especially when they can’t get her.”
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