“I was glad to get married to a decent man, if he was a bit old; and glad to get away, believe me! Then we made the mistake of comin’ back. I didn’t want to, as you know; but the boys wanted father and me to cut down expenses. So we had to come. Anyway, with me married and Jerry mixed up with another skirt--and a swell one, too--I figured he’d forget his old grief about me. But you know what he did to his lady friend; well, when he’d made himself all lonely again, he seems to have got me back on his busted brain. Anyway, he sent word to me to come meet him.” “How did he send word?” This was from me. “Telephoned.” “Why didn’t you inform the police?” That was another interjection of mine; and she came back at me through the wide, wide opening I’d left her. “Why didn’t you, when he slipped word to you to meet him?” Fred failed to interrupt; he was too busy looking and listening. I reserved my reply and she went on: “He mentioned to me that, if I set a squeal, I’d hear from it; also that I’d better meet him. He wanted money to get away. Of course he couldn’t sell those Crewe diamonds at any sort of price now; there was too much danger in handling them, with everybody watching for ’em; and too much loss if he had ’em cut. He wanted cash money and he thought I could bring it. Remember, a couple a weeks ago,” she said to Fred, “I tried to get some considerable cash from you?” Fred admitted that. She said, “That was to give to Jerry Fanneal. I got afraid of him. I wanted him to get out. When I couldn’t raise the cash, I said I’d help him get it from his own family; and so I put up the talk for him to Steve Fanneal.” “What?” said Fred. She had to tell him again and when she was through she referred Fred to me. “Let him tell it now.” She had me in the hole; and she knew it; and Fred saw it. I had no chance at all of convincing Fred that the man I met with her was not Jerry but Keeban. Here was she denying, like everyone else, that Keeban could exist; here was she explaining how Jerry had come to do this murder. I knew better than to try to tell my story. Shirley carried on. “Jerry and I met him and he got the money. Ten thousand in cash, wasn’t it?” she examined me. “If he denies it, Fred, ask the teller in his bank--last week Thursday he got it.” “Did you?” asked Fred. “I did,” I said. He nodded to Shirley. “Go on.” “He gave it to Jerry to go away.” “That’s right?” Fred asked me. “That’s right,” I had to admit. Shirley continued, “Then Jerry wanted me. He’s crazy, you see. Sometimes he’s all right, like anybody else; then he’s like when he took that necklace from Dorothy Crewe and tossed her into the street. He said he’d get my husband and then me. Isn’t that true? Didn’t you know Win was in danger?” Again she was at me. “Yes; but----” “But you tried to stop it, of course; with wonderful success! Well, I’ve nothing on you there, I tried to stop it too!”