“For God’s sake Mrs. Latham, what’s happening?—And why did they get Belden Doyle?” I took off my coat and galoshes. “I think someone recommended a first-class criminal lawyer,” I said. “Don’t tell me you hadn’t heard.” “Yes—but Doyle, for God’s sake! You might as well paint Guilty all across her forehead.” “That seems to have been done—very effectively—some time before Mr. Doyle entered on the scene,” I said. “I’d thought you were one of the people who first recognized it.” He started pacing up and down again. “Can’t you stand still?” I said. “You make me dizzy.” He stopped abruptly and looked at me. Then he came over to where I was standing by the windows looking out into the sodden garden toward the Palladian window and yellow brick pediment of the Nash house showing above the wall.
