"He says the young lady is mentally unstable and of low character. It seems that he and the congressman observed her in the car for some time before the crash. They say that her behavior was most erratic, that she wailed and shrieked and at one point tried to abandon the car in full motion." "How else can you abandon a car?" the judge said sharply. "You have to be in full motion." "I mean the car was in full motion." "I see. Where was this gentleman and the congressman while they were doing all this observing?" "They were in the second car. The congressman was driving. The dark man is his body-guard. He was cleaning his gun at the time and that's how he happened to shoot the third car, although the young lady insists he was trying to shoot her." "I think I've lost the thread," the judge said foggily. "Who was in the third car?" "The man with the skinny legs who says he isn't Pillsworth, and a blonde woman." "He says he isn't Pillsworth and a blonde woman?" the judge asked, his eyes loosening in their sockets. "Why should he say a thing like that?" "No, no," the cop said earnestly, "he just says he isn't Pillsworth." "Then he admits to being a blonde woman?" the judge gasped. "He must be mad!" "No," the cop said, "he doesn't admit anything about being a blonde woman." "Then he denies being a blonde woman," the judge said with relief. "I wish you'd give me this story straight. Who accused him of being a blonde woman in the first place?" "No one," the cop said, almost tearfully. "He was only accused of being Pillsworth." "Pillsworth? You mean the fellow the hospital's looking for? Who said he was Pillsworth?" A look of doom came into the cop's eyes. "The--the other one, your honor," he said. "The other what?" the judge glowered. "Stop being evasive and answer my questions." * * * * * Rooney swallowed fatefully. "The other Pillsworth," he answered. "He accused Pillsworth of being Pillsworth--that is unless he's Pillsworth himself. Only he melted away so I guess we'll never really know. The blonde woman insists she can't identify him." There was a dreadful silence as the judge tapped the palm of his hand with the gavel. He lifted his gaze to the ceiling then levelled it slowly on Rooney. "So we're back to the blonde woman again, are we?" "I'm afraid so," Rooney admitted weakly. "That's her over there, looking mad." "I had hoped we were through with the blonde woman," the judge said acidly. "I thought we'd washed the blonde woman up." "No, your honor, I'm afraid not." "This isn't the same blonde woman that Pillsworth denies being, is it?" "No, sir." "Does she deny that she's Pillsworth, is that it?" "No, sir," Rooney sighed hopelessly. "She's just a blonde woman. She refuses to give her name because her husband's a butcher." "Is she a defendant or a complainant?"