“I never would have believed it of James Reilly,” he said simply. “He’s always been a man of violent speech, but that’s all.”
Tommy nodded.
“If you disperse energy in speech, it doesn’t leave you too much over for action. What I realise is that I shall be one of the principal witnesses against him. That conversation he had with me just before the crime was particularly damning. And in spite of everything, I like the man, and if there was anyone else to suspect, I should believe him to be innocent. What’s his own story?”
The solicitor pursed up his lips.
“He declares that he found her lying there dead. But that’s impossible, of course. He’s using the first lie that comes into his head.”
“Because, if he happened to be speaking the truth, it would mean that our garrulous Mrs. Honeycott committed the crime—and that is fantastic. Yes, he must have done it.”
“The maid heard her cry out, remember.”
“The maid—yes—”
Tommy was silent a moment. Then he said thoughtfully:
“What credulous creatures we are, really. We believe evidence as though it were gospel truth. And what is it really? Only the impressions conveyed to the mind by the senses—and suppose they’re the wrong impressions?”
The lawyer shrugged his shoulders.
“Oh! we all know that there are unreliable witnesses, witnesses who remember more and more as time goes on, with no real intention to deceive.”