identified, particularly by Rowan. For Rowan would identify him, as Rowan did, for Jerry Fanneal; and, so identified, no one would connect Shirley with the murder. Who was Jerry Fanneal, in these days? A wild, irresponsible criminal, a man from nowhere who had betrayed the breeding bestowed upon him and had "reverted." As he had attacked and robbed Dorothy Crewe, now he had entered Win Scofield's house and shot him either wantonly or for some old, brooded-over pique; that was what the newspapers assumed and the police and even Win Scofield's sons who had most hated and doubted Shirley.
Fred was feeling badly over how he'd ridiculed his father the last time he'd talked with me and how he'd mistaken Shirley. "She was right there beside father and she never thought of herself, Rowan says," Fred repeated to me. "She held him while he died and"
"How's she now?" I asked.
"Nearly collapsed. She gave her evidence to the police and afterwards to the coroner. She's in bed now."
"Can I see her?"
"You?" said Fred. "Why?"
"She's accused Jerry."
