hold—erroneously, no doubt—that if a man was living, he would presumably be alive."
"Why this academic dissertation?" asked Markham, this time a bit irritably.
"It seems to touch rather vitally on the source of your present predicament," Vance explained equably. "The police, not being lawyers, have apparently got you into hot water, what? . . . Why not start an agitation to send all detectives to law school?"
"You're a great help," retorted Markham.
Vance raised his eyebrows slightly.
"Why disparage my suggestion? Surely you must perceive that it has merit. A man without legal training, when he knows a thing to be true, ignores all incompetent testimony to the contr'ry, and clings to the facts. A court of law listens solemnly to a mass of worthless testimony, and renders a decision not on the facts but according to a complicated set of rules. The result, d' ye see, is that a court often acquits a prisoner, realizing full well that he is guilty. Many a judge has said, in effect, to a culprit: 'I know, and the jury knows, that you committed the crime, but in view of the legally admissible evidence, I declare you innocent. Go and sin again.'"
Markham grunted. "I'd hardly endear myself to the people of this county if I answered the current strictures against me by recommending law courses for the Police Department."
"Permit me, then, to suggest the alternative of Shakespeare's butcher: 'Let's kill all the lawyers.'"
"Unfortunately, it's a situation, not a utopian theory, that has to be met."
