It must be my business to find that flaw."
"Strange things happen in this world, Mr. Royce," observed Singleton
with a philosophy born of experience.
"The impossible never happens, sir!" retorted our junior. "I hope to
show you that this belongs in that category."
"Well, I hope you will," said the district attorney. "I'd be glad to
find that someone else is guilty."
"I'll do my best," and Mr. Royce turned to me. "Lester, you'd better
go and get some lunch. You look quite done up."
"Shall I bring you something?" I asked. "Or, better still, have a meal
ready for you in half an hour? Rotin's is just around the corner."
He would have refused, I think, had not the coroner interfered.
"You'd better go, Mr. Royce," he said. "You're looking done up
yourself. Perhaps you can persuade Miss Holladay to eat something. I'm
sure she needs it."
"Very well, then; have two meals ready in half an hour, Lester," he
said, "and a lunch we can bring back with us. I'll go to Miss Holladay
now, and then come direct to Rotin's."
He hurried away after the coroner, and I walked slowly over to Rotin's
to give the necessary orders. I chose a table in a snug corner, picked
up a paper, and tried to read. Its one great item of news was the
Holladay case, and I grew hot with anger, as I saw how unquestioningly,
how complacently, it accepted the theory of the daughter's guilt.
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