"Steal them jools off Mrs. Haley."
"I?"
"Yeh--you. It was a pretty slick piece of work, Arthur. But it wasn't
quite slick enough."
Sherwood seated himself opposite the detective and crossed one leg over
the other. He lighted a cigar of his own, a rich, fragrant, expensive
thing.
His tone was quietly argumentative as he replied:
"I think it was slick enough, Jim."
"Aw, Arthur! I'm s'prised at you."
"I was a bit surprised at myself, Jim. As a matter of fact, I don't
believe you're going to arrest me for that little affair."
"Why not?"
"You can't prove a thing. And if you arrest me without sufficient
evidence to convict, you'll have the double disappointment of seeing
yourself made ridiculous while I go free. And safe."
Hanvey nodded agreement. "You're an awful plausible talker, Arthur." He
leaned forward in his chair. "Just between friends--you did steal them
jools, didn't you?"
"Between friends?"
"Uh-huh."
"Yes, I stole them. But you can't prove it, Jim."
"M'm! I could arrest you now an' say that you confessed you stole 'em."
"It wouldn't help you. Any flatfoot can do that any time he wishes--but
it doesn't secure a conviction. What you need, Jim, is evidence--and
evidence is the one thing you can't get. If you arrest me and say that
I confessed I'll simply deny it, and where will you be? You need proof,
my boy; proof."
Hanvey reflected heavily.
"Reckon you're right, Arthur. I was hoping you wouldn't put me to all
the trouble of gettin' it. I was hopin' to get away on a little fishin'
trip."