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The name of the attorney appointed by the court was Perry Pope. He was in his late thirties,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], with a craggy, intelligent face and sympathetic blue eyes. Tracy liked him immediately.
He walked into her cell, sat on the cot, and said,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], "Well,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]! You've created quite a sensation for a lady who's been in town only twenty-four hours." He grinned. "But you're lucky. You're a lousy shot. It's only a flesh wound. Romano's going to live." He took out a pipe. "Mind?"
"No."
He filled his pipe with tobacco, lit it,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych],[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and studied Tracy. "You don't look like the average desperate criminal. Miss Whitney."
"I'm not. I swear I'm not."
"Convince me,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]," he said. "Tell me what happened. From the beginning. Take your time."
Tracy told him. Everything. Perry Pope sat quietly listening to her story,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], not speaking until Tracy was finished. Then he leaned back against the wall of the cell,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], a grim expression on his face. "That bastard," Pope said softly.
"I don't understand what they were talking about." There was confusion in Tracy's eyes. "I don't know anything about a painting."
"It's really very simple. Joe Romano used you as a patsy, the same way he used your mother. You walked right into a setup."
"I still don't understand."