“Exactly. That and the drinking did a lot of damage in a short time. It’s the old, old story. You’ve probably seen a hundred clients go to hell the same way. His money was gone inside of six months—naturally he never saved anything, never invested it, put it all into fancy cars and high living—and pretty soon he was down there grubbing on South Main Street with the rest of them. Probably all he needed to be saved from the slopheap was a little break from somebody, but you know the way that works. There’s nothing that the boys and girls love better in the world than to kick a has-been in the teeth.”

“Agreed.”

“So he moved into a cheap furnished room someplace, and spent whatever money he had cached on booze in the dives. And, of course, that’s how he got snarled up in this whole stupid murder mess. He knew that girl, sure. But so did I. A lot of people knew her. He was just the easiest one to get at. You couple that with the ridiculous coincidence of the identification by the two witnesses and there he is—walking down the last mile without anybody giving a damn that he’s innocent.”

“It’s hard to argue against the circumstantial evidence,” Reynolds said thoughtfully. “You’re absolutely convinced that the man is clear?”

“Positive.”

“How do you figure it?”

“Simple. He couldn’t have done it. I know the boy, and it doesn’t figure with his character. For one thing, I’m morally certain that his relationships with Main Street women never went a step beyond a conversation over a drink. He wasn’t the type to get into bed with floozies no matter how low down he sank.”

“A lot of men have high, moral feelings until they land in the gutter,” Reynolds said. “It’s easy to stay away from cheap dames when you’ve got lots of dough in your pocket. But when you’re down and out, and the girl says she’ll go with you for two or three bucks, it’s hard to resist, wouldn’t you say?”

“Not for this lad. He was shot through with idealism once, and no matter how much else of his past life went to hell I’m sure that part stuck. There was a girl he simply worshipped, once. A real beauty. Starlet, you know, but not your typical would-be Marilyn who’ll put out for anybody important. She was badly gone on him too, but she let him skid once he started to.” Lowry scowled. “Maybe she tried to help him and it didn’t work. I don’t know. Anyway, she packed in, and I know that hurt him as deep as you can hurt a man. But he didn’t throw that overboard. I know that.”