old man, didn't you, kid, when Ketlar and you fixed up your story?"
He turned from her and touched the radio, idly. "By the way, Goudy," he commented. "After you left the other place, we got the time of the affair fixed exactly. The shot was heard by a couple of radio bugs who were sitting up to listen to Los Angeles. 'Home, Sweet Home' was coming in and the shot was just as the song was over. All we got to do is find out when they finished singin' at Los Angeles; and we got the time almost to a second."
"Then I know, I know and I can prove that Ket didn't do it!" Joan cried with her throat nearly choked with joy. "For he was here with me, we had the radio on, and he was beside me when they finished that song in Los Angeles!"
"You're quick, kid; I'll say that much for you," Denson replied and, as he looked her over, he permitted an impulse of pity. "Let her rest a bit," he said to Goudy. "Mr. Clarke's coming."
But she wanted no rest; she burned to act, to help Ket, to prove her truth.
"Who's Mr. Clarke?" she demanded.
"He's in the state's attorney's office," Denson informed her. "He's the prosecutor in line to handle this case. He's on his way now to look you two over for the State."
That phrase, "for the State," suddenly thrilled and appalled Joan Daisy Royle with its vague, gigantic implication of mercilessness and power.
Very familiar was she with the wording of warrants and terms of the law. "For the State," they announced; and when they haled one to court to answer for fraud or false pretenses, they proclaimed "the people of Illinois versus"—(that meant against)—you!
Millions and millions of people against Ket and her!
