"
"Ah, you term it a farce - is that why you laughed in court?" asked
Kent quickly.
Mrs. Brewster changed color. "I feel badly about that," she
stammered. "I meant no disrespect to Jimmie, but I have a nervous
inclination to laugh - almost hysteria - when excited and
overwrought."
"I see," answered Kent slowly. He was distinctly puzzled; Mrs.
Brewster's air of candor disarmed suspicion, but - "You saw and
talked with Jimmie Turnbull on Monday night?"
"I did not." Her denial was firm.
"Then how did you learn of his arrest?" asked Kent swiftly.
"I overheard him conversing -"
"With whom?" Kent demanded eagerly as she paused as if to reconsider
her confidences. Helen, one hand on the desk and the other on the
arm of her chair, tried to rise, but her strength had deserted her.
"With whom?" repeated Kent as the widow remained silent.
"Jimmie was talking with Grimes," Mrs. Brewster stated slowly.
"From what I overheard, he paid Grimes to let him inside the house."
Kent looked perplexed as he gazed first at the widow and then at
Helen, who had sunk back in her chair.
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