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+<!DOCTYPE html>
+<html lang="en">
+<head>
+<meta charset="utf-8">
+<title>The Bellamy Trial</title>
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+<body>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75325 ***</div>
+
+<figure>
+  <img id="coverpage" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Book cover">
+</figure>
+
+<div class="section" id="titlepage">
+
+<h1>The Bellamy Trial</h1>
+<p class="authorprefix">by</p>
+<p class="author">Frances Noyes Hart</p>
+
+<p class="publish2">Garden City, New York</p>
+<p class="publish1">Doubleday, Page &amp; Company</p>
+<p class="copyright">Copyright, 1927, Frances Noyes Hart</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="section" id="contents">
+
+<h2>Contents</h2>
+
+<table class="chapterlist">
+<tr><td><a href="#ch01">Chapter I</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#ch02">Chapter II</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#ch03">Chapter III</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#ch04">Chapter IV</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#ch05">Chapter V</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#ch06">Chapter VI</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#ch07">Chapter VII</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#ch08">Chapter VIII</a></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="section" id="dedication">
+
+<p class="dedicationprefix">To <br> my favourite lawyer</p>
+<p class="dedicatee">Edward Henry Hart</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="section" id="outline">
+
+<p class="title">The Bellamy Trial</p>
+
+<p class="position">The Judge</p>
+<p class="person">Anthony Bristed Carver</p>
+
+<table class="counsel">
+<tr>
+<td>
+  <p class="position">The Prosecutor</p>
+  <p class="person">Daniel Farr</p>
+</td>
+<td></td>
+<td>
+  <p class="position">Counsel for the Defense</p>
+  <p class="person">Dudley Lambert</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class="position">The Defendants</p>
+<p class="person">Susan Ives</p>
+<p class="person">Stephen Bellamy</p>
+
+<table class="events">
+<tr><th>First Day</th></tr>
+<tr><td>Opening speech for the prosecution</td></tr>
+<tr><th>Second Day</th></tr>
+<tr><td>Mr. Herbert Conroy, <i>real estate agent</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Dr. Paul Stanley, <i>physician</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Miss Kathleen Page, <i>governess</i></td></tr>
+<tr><th>Third Day</th></tr>
+<tr><td>Mr. Douglas Thorne, <i>Susan Ives’s brother</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Miss Flora Biggs, <i>Mimi Bellamy’s schoolmate</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Mrs. Daniel Ives, <i>Susan Ives’s mother-in-law</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Mr. Elliot Farwell, <i>Mimi Bellamy’s ex-fiancé</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Mr. George Dallas, <i>Mr. Farwell’s friend</i></td></tr>
+<tr><th>Fourth Day</th></tr>
+<tr><td>Miss Melanie Cordier, <i>waitress</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Miss Laura Roberts, <i>lady’s maid</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Mr. Luigi Orsini, <i>handy man</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Mr. Joseph Turner, <i>bus driver</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Sergeant Hendrick Johnson, <i>state trooper</i></td></tr>
+<tr><th>Fifth Day</th></tr>
+<tr><td>Opening speech for defence</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Mrs. Adolph Platz, <i>wife of chauffeur</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Mrs. Timothy Shea, <i>landlady</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Mr. Stephen Bellamy</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Dr. Gabriel Barretti, <i>finger-print expert</i></td></tr>
+<tr><th>Sixth Day</th></tr>
+<tr><td>Mr. Leo Fox, <i>mechanician</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Mr. Patrick Ives, <i>Susan Ives’s husband</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Susan Ives</td></tr>
+<tr><th>Seventh Day</th></tr>
+<tr><td>Susan Ives—conclusion</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Stephen Bellamy—recalled</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Closing speech for the defence</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Closing speech for prosecution</td></tr>
+<tr><th>Eighth Day</th></tr>
+<tr><td>Mr. Randolph Phipps, <i>high-school principal</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Miss Sally Dunne, <i>high-school pupil</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td>The judge’s charge</td></tr>
+<tr><td>The verdict</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch01">
+
+<h2>Chapter I</h2>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl sank into the seat in the middle of
+the first row with a gasp of relief. Sixth seat from the
+aisle—yes, that was right; the label on the arm of
+the golden-oak chair stared up at her reassuringly. Row A,
+seat 15, Philadelphia <i>Planet</i>. The ones on either side of her
+were empty. Well, it was a relief to know that there were four
+feet of space left unoccupied in Redfield, even if only
+temporarily. She was still shaken into breathless stupor by the
+pandemonium in the corridors outside—the rattling of regiments
+of typewriters, of armies of tickers, the shouts of infuriated
+denizens of telephone booths, the hurrying, frantic faces of
+officials, the scurrying and scampering of dozens of rusty-haired
+freckled-faced insubordinate small boys, whose olive-drab
+messenger uniforms alone saved them from extermination; the
+newspaper men—you could spot them at once, looking
+exhausted and alert and elaborately bored; the newspaper women,
+keen and purposeful and diverted; and above and around and
+below all these licensed inhabitants, the crowd—a vast, jostling,
+lunging beast, with one supreme motive galvanizing it to
+action—an immense, a devouring curiosity that sent it surging
+time and time again against the closed glass doors with their
+blue-coated guardians, fragile barriers between it and the
+consummation of its desire. For just beyond those doors lay the
+arena where the beast might slake its hunger at will, and it
+was not taking its frustration of that privilege amiably.</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl set her little black-feathered hat straight
+with unsteady fingers. She wasn’t going to forget that crowd
+in a hurry. It had growled at her—actually growled—when
+she’d fought her way through it, armed with the magic of the
+little blue ticket that spelled open sesame as well as press section.
+Who could have believed that even curiosity would turn nice
+old gray-headed ladies and mild-looking gentlemen with brown
+moustaches and fat matrons with leather bags and thin
+flappers with batik scarfs into one huge ravenous beast? She panted
+again, reminiscently, at the thought of the way they’d shoved
+and squashed and kneaded—and then settled down to
+gratified inspection.</p>
+
+<p>So this was a courtroom!</p>
+
+<p>Not a very large or very impressive room, looked at from any
+angle. It might hold three hundred people at a pinch, and there
+were, conservatively, about three thousand crowding the
+corridors and walking the streets of Redfield in their efforts to
+expand its limits. Fan-shaped, with nine rows of the
+golden-oak seats packed with grimly triumphant humanity, the first
+three neatly tagged with the little white labels that
+metamorphosed them into the press section. Golden-oak panelling
+half-way up the walls, and then whitewashed plaster—rather dingy,
+smoky plaster, its defects relentlessly revealed by the pale
+autumnal sunshine flooding in through the great windows and
+the dome of many-coloured glass, lavish and heartening enough
+to compensate for much of the grimness and the grime.</p>
+
+<p>Near enough for the red-headed girl to touch was a low rail,
+and beyond that rail a little empty space, like a stage—empty
+of actors, but cluttered with chairs and tables. At the back was
+a small platform with a great high-backed black leather chair,
+and a still smaller platform on a slightly lower level, with a
+rail about it and a much more uncomfortable-looking chair.
+The judge’s seat, the witness box—she gave a little sigh of
+pure uncontrollable excitement, and a voice next to her said
+affably:</p>
+
+<p>“Hi! Greetings, stranger, or hail, friend, as the case may be.
+Can I get by you into the next seat without damaging you and
+those feet of yours materially?”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl scrambled guiltily to the offending feet,
+unobtrusive enough in themselves, but most obtrusively
+extended across the narrow passage, and turned a flushed and
+anxious countenance on her cheerful critic, now engaged in
+folding himself competently into the exiguous space provided
+by the golden-oak chair. A tall lanky young man, with a straight
+nose, mouse-coloured hair, shrewd gray eyes, and an expression
+that was intended to be that of a hard-boiled cynic, and that
+worked all right unless he grinned. He wore a shabby tweed
+suit, a polka-dotted tie, had three very sharp pencils, and a
+good-sized stack of telegraph blanks clasped to his heart.
+Obviously a reporter—a real reporter. The red-headed girl
+attempted to conceal her gold pencil and leather-bound
+notebook, smiling tentatively and ingratiatingly.</p>
+
+<p>“Covering it for a New York paper?” inquired the Olympian
+one graciously.</p>
+
+<p>“No,” said the red-headed girl humbly; “a Philadelphia
+one—the Philadelphia <i>Planet</i>. Is yours New York?”</p>
+
+<p>“M’m—h’m—<i>Sphere</i>. Doing colour stuff?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I hope so,” replied the red-headed girl so fervently that
+the reporter looked somewhat startled. “You see, I don’t know
+whether it will have colour or not. I’m not exactly a regular
+reporter.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you aren’t, aren’t you? Well, if it’s no secret, just
+exactly what are you? A finger-print expert?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m a—a writer,” said the red-headed girl, looking
+unusually small and dignified. “This is my first as—assignment.”
+It was frightful to stammer just when you particularly wanted
+not to.</p>
+
+<p>The real reporter eyed her severely. “A writer, hey? A real,
+honest-to-goodness, walking-around writer, with a fountain pen
+and a great big vocabulary and a world of promise and
+everything? Well, I’ll bet you a hot dog to a soup plate of fresh
+caviar that about four days from now you’ll be parading
+through these marble halls telling the cockeyed world that
+you’re a journalist.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I wouldn’t dare. Do all of you call yourselves
+journalists?”</p>
+
+<p>The reporter looked as though he were about to suffocate.
+“Get this,” he said impressively: “The day that you hear me
+call myself a journalist you have my full and free permission
+to call me a —— Well, no, on second thought, a lady couldn’t.
+But if you ever call me a journalist, smile. And if you solemnly
+swear never to call yourself one I’ll show you the ropes a bit,
+because you’re a poor ignorant little writing critter that doesn’t
+know any better than to come to a murder trial—and besides
+that you have red hair. Want to know anything?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh,” cried the red-headed girl, “I didn’t know that anyone
+so horrid could be so nice. I want to know everything. Let’s
+begin at the beginning.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, in case you don’t know where you are, this is the
+courtroom of Redfield, county seat of Bellechester, twenty-five
+miles from the great metropolis of New York. And in case you’d
+like to know what it’s all about, it’s the greatest murder trial
+of the century—about every two years another one of ’em comes
+along. This particular one is the trial of the People versus
+Susan Ives and Stephen Bellamy for the wilful, deliberate, and
+malicious murder of Madeleine Bellamy.”</p>
+
+<p>“A murder trial,” said the red-headed girl softly. “Well, I
+should think that ought to be about the most tremendous thing
+in the world.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you do, do you?” remarked the reporter, and for a
+moment it was no effort at all for him to look cynical. “Well,
+I’ll have you called at about seven to-morrow morning, though
+it’s a pity ever to wake anyone up that can have such beautiful
+dreams as that. The most tremendous thing in the world, says
+she. Well, well, well!”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl eyed him belligerently. “Well, yourself!
+Perhaps you’ll be good enough to tell me what’s more
+tremendous than murder.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you tell me!” urged the reporter persuasively.</p>
+
+<p>“All right, I’ll tell you that the only story that you’re going
+to be able to interest every human being in, from the President
+of the United States to the gentleman who takes away the ashes,
+is a good murder story. It’s the one universal solvent. The old
+lady from Dubuque will be at it the first thing in the morning,
+and the young lady from Park Avenue will be at it the last
+thing at night. And if it’s a love story too, you’re lucky, because
+then you’ve got the combination that every really great writer
+that ever lived has picked out to wring hearts and freeze the
+marrow in posterity’s bones.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, come! Aren’t you getting just a dash over-wrought?
+Every great writer? What about Wordsworth?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, pooh!” said the red-headed girl fiercely. “Wordsworth!
+What about Sophocles and Euripides and Shakespeare and
+Browning? Do you know what ‘The Ring and the Book’ is?
+It’s a murder trial! What’s ‘Othello’ but a murder story?
+What’s ‘Hamlet’ but five murder stories? What’s ‘Macbeth’?
+Or ‘The Cenci’? Or ‘Lamia’? Or ‘Crime and Punishment’? Or
+‘Carmen’? Or——”</p>
+
+<p>“I give up,” said the reporter firmly—“or, no, wait a
+moment—can it be that they are murder stories? Quite a little
+reader in your quiet way, aren’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl ignored him sternly. “And do you want
+me to tell you why it’s the most enthralling and absorbing
+theme in the world? Do you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” replied the reporter hastily. “Yes—or how shall I put
+it? Yes and no, let’s say.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s because it’s real,” said the red-headed girl, with a
+sudden startling gravity. “It’s the only thing that’s absolutely real
+in the world, I think. Something that makes you reckless
+enough not to care a tinker’s dam for your own life or
+another’s—that’s something to think about, isn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, yes,” said the reporter slowly. “Now that you put it
+that way, that’s something to think about.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s good for us, too,” said the girl, “We’re all so
+everlastingly canny and competent and sophisticated these days,
+going mechanically through a mechanical world, sharpening up
+our little emotions, tuning up our little sensations—and
+suddenly there’s a cry of ‘Murder!’ in the streets, and we stop and
+look back, shuddering, over our shoulder—and across us
+falls the shadow of a savage with a bloodstained club, and we
+know that it’s good and dangerous and beautiful to be alive.”</p>
+
+<p>“I rather get you,” said the reporter thoughtfully. “And,
+strangely enough, there’s just a dash in what you say. It’s the
+same nice, creepy, luxurious feeling that you get when you
+pull up closer to a good roaring fire with carpet slippers on your
+feet and a glass of something hot and sweet in your hand and
+listen to the wind yowling outside and see the rain on the black
+windowpanes. Nothing in the world to make you feel warm
+and safe and sheltered and cozy like a good storm or a good
+murder—what?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing in the world,” agreed the red-headed girl; and
+she added pensively, “It’s always interested me more than
+anything else.”</p>
+
+<p>“Has it indeed? Well, don’t let it get you. I’d just keep it
+as a hobby if I were you. At your present gait you’re going
+to make some fellow an awfully happy widow one of these days.
+Are you a good marksman?”</p>
+
+<p>“You think that murder’s frightfully amusing, don’t you?”
+The red-headed girl’s soft voice had a sudden edge to it.</p>
+
+<p>The real reporter’s face changed abruptly. “No, I don’t,” he
+said shortly. “I think it’s rotten—a dirty, bloody, beastly
+business that used to keep me awake nights until I grew a shell
+over my skin and acquired a fairly workable sense of humour
+to use on all these clowns called human beings. Of course, I’m
+one of them myself, but I don’t boast about it. And if you’re
+suffering from the illusion that nothing shocks me, I’ll tell
+you right now that it shocks me any amount that a scrap of a
+thing like you, with all that perfectly good red hair and a rather
+nice arrangement in dimples, should be practically climbing over
+that rail in your frenzy to find out what it’s all about.”</p>
+
+<p>“I think that men are the most amusing race in the world,”
+murmured the red-headed girl. “And I think that it’s awfully
+appealing of you to be shocked. But, you see, my grandfather—who
+was as stern and Scotch and hidebound as anyone that ever
+breathed—told me when I was fourteen years old that a great
+murder trial was the most superbly dramatic spectacle that the
+world afforded. And he ought to have known what he was
+talking about—he was one of the greatest judges that ever lived.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, maybe they were in his day. And you said Scotch,
+didn’t you? Oh, well, they do it better over there. England,
+too—bunches of flowers on the clerks’ tables and wigs on the
+judges’ heads, and plenty of scarlet and gold, and all the great
+lawyers in the land taking a whack at it, and never a cross word
+out of one of them——”</p>
+
+<p>“He used to say that is was like a hunt,” interrupted the
+red-headed girl firmly, “with the judge as master of the hounds and
+the lawyers as the hounds, baying as they ran hot on the scent,
+and all the rest of us galloping hard at their heels—jury,
+spectators, public.”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure,” said the reporter grimly. “With the quarry waiting,
+bound and shackled and gagged till they catch up with him and
+tear him to pieces—it’s a great hunt all right, all right!”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s not a human being that they’re hunting, idiot—it’s
+truth.”</p>
+
+<p>“Truth!” The reporter’s laugh was loud and long and free
+enough to cause a dozen heads to turn. “Oh, what you’re going
+to learn before you get out of here! A hunt for truth, is it?
+Well, now, you get this straight: If that’s what you’re
+expecting to find here, you’ll save yourself a whole lot of bad minutes
+by taking the next train back to Philadelphia. Truth! I’m not
+running down murder trials from the point of view of interest,
+you understand. A really good one furnishes all the best points of
+a first-class dog fight and a highly superior cross-word puzzle,
+and that ought to be enough excitement for anyone. But if you
+think that the opposing counsel are honestly in pursuit of
+enlightenment——”</p>
+
+<p>A clear high voice cut through the rustle and clatter like a
+knife.</p>
+
+<p>“His Honour! His Honour the Court!” There was a mighty
+rustle of upheaval.</p>
+
+<p>“Who’s that?” inquired a breathless voice at the reporter’s
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s the tallest and nicest court crier in the United States
+of America. Name’s Ben Potts. Best falsetto voice outside the
+Russian Orthodox Church. Kindly notice the central hair part
+and spit curls. And here we have none other than His Honour
+himself, Judge Anthony Bristed Carver.”</p>
+
+<p>“Hear ye! Hear ye! Hear ye!” chanted the court crier. “All
+those having business before this honourable court draw near,
+give your attention and you shall be heard!”</p>
+
+<p>The tall figure in flowing black moved deliberately toward
+the chair on the dais, which immediately assumed the aspect of a
+throne. Judge Carver’s sleek iron-gray head and aquiline face
+were an adornment to any courtroom. He swept a pair of
+brilliant deep-set eyes over the room, seated himself, and reached
+for the gavel in one motion.</p>
+
+<p>“And he’ll use it, too, believe you me,” murmured the
+reporter with conviction. “Sternest old guy on the bench.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where are the prisoners—where do they come from?”</p>
+
+<p>“The defendants, as they whimsically prefer to be called for
+the time being, come through that little door to the left of the
+judge’s room; that enormous red-faced, sandy-haired old duffer
+talking to the thin young man in the tortoise-shell glasses is
+Mrs. Ives’s counsel, Mr. Dudley Lambert; the begoggled one
+is Mr. Bellamy’s counsel, Harrison Clark.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where’s the prosecutor?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, well, Mr. Farr is liable to appear almost anywhere,
+like Mephistopheles in <i>Faust</i> or that baby that so obligingly
+came out of the everywhere into the here. He’s all for the
+unexpected— Ah, what did I tell you? There he is now, conferring
+with the judge and the defense counsel.”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl leaned forward eagerly. The slender
+individual, leaning with rather studied ease against the railing
+that hedged in the majesty of the law, suggested a curious cross
+between a promising light of Tammany Hall and the youngest
+and handsomest of the Spanish Inquisitioners. Black hair that
+deserved the qualification of raven, a pale regular face that
+missed distinction by a destructive quarter of an inch, narrow
+blue eyes back of which stirred some restless fire, long slim
+hands—what was there about him that wasn’t just right?
+Perhaps that dark coat fitted him just a shade too well, or that
+heavily brocaded tie in peacock blue— Well, at any rate, his
+slim elegance certainly made Lambert look like an awkward,
+cross, red-faced baby, for all his thatch of graying hair.</p>
+
+<p>“Here they come!” Even the reporter’s level, mocking voice
+was a trifle tense.</p>
+
+<p>The little door to the left of the judge opened and two people
+came in, as leisurely and tranquilly as though they were
+advancing toward easy chairs and a tea table before an open fire.
+A slight figure in a tan tweed suit, with a soft copper silk
+handkerchief at her throat and a little felt hat of the same
+colour pulled down over two wings of pale gold hair, level hazel
+eyes under level dark brows, and a beautiful mouth,
+steady-lipped, generous, sensitive—the most beautiful mouth, thought
+the red-headed girl, that she had ever seen. She crossed the
+short distance between the door and the chair beside which stood
+Mr. Lambert with a light, boyish swing. She looked rather
+like a boy—a gallant, proud little boy, striding forward to
+receive the victor’s laurels. Did murderesses walk like that?</p>
+
+<p>Behind her came Stephen Bellamy, the crape band on his dark
+coat appallingly conspicuous; only a few inches taller than Sue
+Ives, with dark hair lightly silvered, and a charming, sensitive,
+olive-skinned face. As they seated themselves, he flashed the
+briefest of smiles at his companion—a grave, consoling smile,
+singularly sweet—then turned an attentive countenance to the
+judge. Did a murderer smile like that?</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl sat staring at them blankly.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Lord!” moaned the reporter at her side. “Why did
+that old jackass Lambert let her come in here in that rig?
+If he had the sense that God gives a dead duck he’d know that
+she ought to be wearing something black and frilly and pitiful
+instead of stamping around in brown leather Oxfords as though
+she were headed straight for the first tee instead of the electric
+chair.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, don’t!” The red-headed girl’s voice was passionate in
+its protest. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Look,
+what are they doing now? What’s that wheel?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s for choosing the jury; it looks as though they were
+going to start right now. Yes, they’re off; that’s the sheriff
+spinning the wheel. He calls the names——”</p>
+
+<p>“Timothy Forbes!”</p>
+
+<p>A stocky man with a small shrewd eye and a reddish
+moustache wormed his way forward.</p>
+
+<p>“Number 1! Take your seat in the box.”</p>
+
+<p>“Will it take long?” asked the red-headed girl.</p>
+
+<p>“Alexander Petty!”</p>
+
+<p>“Not at this rate,” replied the reporter, watching the
+progress toward the jury box of a tow-headed little man with
+steel-bowed spectacles and a suit a little shiny at the elbows.</p>
+
+<p>“This is going to be just as rapid as the law allows, I
+understand. Both sides are rarin’ to go, and they’re not liable to touch
+their peremptory challenges; and they’re not likely to challenge
+for cause, either, unless it’s a darned good cause.”</p>
+
+<p>“Eliphalet Slocum!”</p>
+
+<p>A keen-faced elderly man with a mouth like a steel trap
+joined the men in the box.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a special panel that they’re choosing from,” explained
+the reporter, lowering his voice cautiously as Judge Carver
+glanced ominously in his direction. “Redfield’s pretty up and
+coming for a place of its size. All the obviously undesirables
+are weeded out, so it saves an enormous amount of time.”</p>
+
+<p>“Cæsar Smith!”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith advanced at a trot, his round, amiable
+countenance beamingly exposing three gold teeth to the pleased
+spectators.</p>
+
+<p>“Robert Angostini.”</p>
+
+<p>A dark and dapper individual with a silky black moustache
+slipped quietly by Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Number 5, take your place in the box. . . . George
+Hobart.”</p>
+
+<p>An amiable-looking youth in a brown Norfolk jacket
+advanced briskly.</p>
+
+<p>“Who’s that coming in now?” inquired the red-headed girl
+in a stealthy whisper.</p>
+
+<p>“Where?”</p>
+
+<p>“In the witnesses’ seats—over in the corner by the window.
+The tall man with the darling little old lady.”</p>
+
+<p>The reporter turned his head, his boredom lit by a transient
+gleam of interest. “That? That’s Pat Ives and his mother. She’s
+been subpœnaed by the state as a witness—God knows what
+for.”</p>
+
+<p>“I love them when they wear bonnets,” said the red-headed
+girl. “What’s he like?”</p>
+
+<p>“Pat? Well, take a good look at him; that’s what he’s like.”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl obediently took a good look. Black hair,
+blue eyes, black with pain, set in a haggard, beautiful young
+face that looked white to the bone, a reckless mouth set in a
+line of desperation.</p>
+
+<p>“He doesn’t look very contented,” she commented mildly.</p>
+
+<p>“And his looks don’t belie him,” the reporter assured her
+drily. “Young Mr. Ives belongs to the romantic school—you
+know—the guardsman, the troubadour, the rover, and the
+lover; the duel by candlelight, the rose in the moonlight, the
+dice, the devil and boots, saddle, to horse and away. The type
+that muffs it when he’s thrown into a show that deals in the
+crude realism of spilled kerosene and bloody rags and an Italian
+labourer’s stuffy little front parlour. Mix him up with that and
+he gets shadows under his eyes and three degrees of fever and
+bad dreams. Also, he gets a little irritable with reporters.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you interview him?” inquired the red-headed girl in
+awe-stricken tones.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that’s a nice way of putting it,” said the reporter
+thoughtfully. “I went around to the Ives’ house with one or
+two other scientific spirits on the night after Sue Ives and
+Bellamy were arrested—June twenty-first, if my memory serves
+me. We rang the doorbell none too optimistically, and the door
+opened so suddenly that we practically fell flat on our faces in
+the front hall. There stood the debonair Mr. Ives, in his shirt
+sleeves, with as unattractive a look on his face as I’ve ever seen
+in my life.</p>
+
+<p>“ ‘Come right in, gentlemen,’ says he, and he made that sound
+unattractive too. ‘I’m not mistaken, am I? It’s the gentlemen
+of the press that I’m addressing?’ We allowed without too
+much enthusiasm that such was indeed the case, and in we
+came. ‘Let’s get right down to business,’ he said. ‘None of this
+absurd delicacy that uses up all your energy,’ says he. ‘What
+you gentlemen want to know, I’m sure, is whether I was
+Madeleine Bellamy’s lover and whether my wife was her murderess.
+That’s about it, isn’t it?’</p>
+
+<p>“It was just about it, but somehow, the way he put it, it
+sounded not so good. ‘Well,’ said Ives, ‘I’ll give you a good
+straight answer to a good straight question. Get to hell out of
+here!’ says he, and he yanks the front door open so wide that it
+would have let out an army.</p>
+
+<p>“Just as I was thinking of something really bright to come
+back with, a nice soft little voice in the back of the hall said,
+‘Oh, Pat darling, do be careful. You’ll wake up the babies. I’m
+sure that these gentlemen will come back another time.’ And
+Mrs. Daniel Ives trotted up and put one hand on his arm and
+smiled a nice, worried, polite little smile at us.</p>
+
+<p>“And Pat darling smiled, too, not so everlastingly politely,
+and said, ‘I’m sure they will—I’m sure of it. Four o’clock in
+the morning’s a good time too.’ And we decided that was as
+good a time as any and we went away from there. And here we
+are. And if you don’t look sharp they’ll have a jury before you
+understand why I know that Mr. Ives is the romantic type
+that lets realism get on his nerves. What number is that heading
+for the box now?”</p>
+
+<p>“Otto Schultz!”</p>
+
+<p>A cozy white-headed cherub trotted energetically up.</p>
+
+<p>“Number 10, take your place in the box!”</p>
+
+<p>“Josiah Morgan!”</p>
+
+<p>“Gosh, they’ll get the whole panel in under an hour!” exulted
+the reporter. “Look at the fine hatchet face on Morgan, will
+you? I bet the fellow that tries to sell Josh a lame horse will
+live to rue the day.”</p>
+
+<p>“Charles Stuyvesant!”</p>
+
+<p>Charles Stuyvesant smiled pleasantly at the sheriff, his fine
+iron-gray head and trim shoulders standing out sharply against
+his overgroomed and undergroomed comrades in the box.</p>
+
+<p>“Number 12, take your place in the box! You and each of
+you do solemnly swear that you will well and truly try Stephen
+Bellamy and Susan Ives, and a true verdict give according to
+the law and evidence, so help you God?”</p>
+
+<p>Above the grave answering murmur the red-headed girl
+begged nervously, “What happens now?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know—recess, maybe—wait, the judge is addressing
+the jury.”</p>
+
+<p>Judge Carver’s deep voice rang out impressively in the still
+courtroom:</p>
+
+<p>“Gentlemen of the jury, you will now be given the usual
+admonition—that you are not to discuss this case amongst
+yourselves, or allow anybody else to discuss it with you, outside your
+own body. You are not to form or express any opinion about
+the merits of the controversy. You are to refrain from speaking
+of it to anybody, or from allowing anybody to speak to you
+with respect to any aspect of this case. If this occurs you will
+communicate it to the Court at once. You are to keep your
+judgment open until the defendants have had their side of the
+case heard, and, lastly, you are to make up your judgment
+solely on the law, which is the last thing that you will hear from
+the Court in its charge. Until then, you will not be able to
+render a verdict in accordance with the law, and therefore you
+must suspend judgment until that time. The Court is dismissed
+for the noon recess. We will reconvene at one o’clock.”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl turned eyes round as saucers on the
+reporter. “Don’t they come back till one?”</p>
+
+<p>“They do not.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do we do until then?”</p>
+
+<p>“We eat. There’s a fair place on the next corner.”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl waved it away. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly
+eat—not possibly. It’s like the first time I went to the theatre;
+I was only seven, but I remember it perfectly. I sat spang in the
+middle of the front row, just like this, and I made my governess
+take me three quarters of an hour too early, and I sat there
+getting sicker and sicker from pure excitement, wondering what
+kind of a new world was behind that curtain—what kind of
+a strange, beautiful, terrible world. I sat there feeling more
+frightful every second, and all of a sudden the curtain went up
+with a jerk and I let out a shriek that made everyone in the
+theatre and on the stage jump three feet in the air. I feel
+exactly like that now.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, get hold of yourself. Shrieking isn’t popular around
+here. If you sit right there like a good quiet child I may bring
+you back an apple. I don’t promise anything, but I may.”</p>
+
+<p>She was still sitting there when he came back with the apple,
+crunched up in her chair, staring at the jury box with eyes
+rounder than ever.</p>
+
+<p>“Isn’t it nearly time?” She eyed the apple ungratefully.</p>
+
+<p>“It is. Come on now, eat it, and I’ll show you what I’ve got in
+my pocket.”</p>
+
+<p>“Show?”</p>
+
+<p>“The jury list—names, addresses, ages, professions and all.
+Two of them are under thirty, three under forty, four under
+fifty, two under sixty, one sixty-two. Three merchants, two
+clerks, two farmers, an insurance man, an accountant, a radio
+expert, a jeweller and a banker. Not a bad list at all, if you ask
+me. Charles Stuyvesant’s the only one that won’t have a good
+clubby time of it. He’s one of the richest bankers in New York.”</p>
+
+<p>“He looked it,” said the red-headed girl. “What will they do
+when they come back?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, if they’re good, the prosecutor’s going to make them
+a nice little speech.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who is the prosecutor? Is he well known?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Daniel Farr is a promising young lad of about forty
+who is extremely well known in these parts, and if you asked him
+his own unbiassed opinion of his abilities, he would undoubtedly
+tell you that with a bit of luck he ought to be President of these
+United States in the next ten years.”</p>
+
+<p>“And what do you think of him?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I think that he may be, at that, and I add in passing
+that I consider that no tribute to the judgment of these United
+States. He’s about as shrewd as they make ’em, but I’m not
+convinced that he’s a very good lawyer. He goes in too much for
+purple patches and hitting about three inches below the belt
+for my simple tastes. And he works on the theory that the jury
+is not quite all there, which may be amply justified but is a
+little trying for the innocent bystander. He goes in for poetry,
+too—oh, not Amy Lowell or Ezra Pound, but something along
+the lines of ‘I could not love thee, dear, so much, loved I not
+honour more,’ and ‘How dear to my heart are the scenes of my
+childhood’—you know the kind of thing—deep stuff.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is he successful?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, by all manner of means. Twenty years ago he was
+caddie master at the Rosemont Country Club; five years before that
+he was a caddie there. America, my child, is the land of
+opportunity. He’s magnificent when he gets started on the idle rich; it’s
+all right to be rich if you’re not idle—or well born. If you’re
+one of those well born society devils, you might just as well go
+and jump in the lake, if you ask Mr. Farr.”</p>
+
+<p>“Does he still live in Rosemont?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, hasn’t lived there for nineteen years; but I don’t believe
+that he’s forgotten one single snub or tip that he got in the good
+old days. Every now and then you can see him stop and turn
+them over in his mind.”</p>
+
+<p>“What’s Mr. Lambert like?”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah, there is a horse of a different colour—a cart horse of
+a different colour, if I may go so far. Mr. Dudley Lambert is
+a lawyer who knows everything that there is to know about
+wills and trusts and estates, and not another blessed thing in
+the world. If he’s as good now as he was when I heard him in
+a case two years ago, he’s terrible. I can’t wait to hear him.”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl looked pale. “Oh, then, why did she get
+him?”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah, thereby hangs a tale. Mr. Lambert was a side kick of
+old Curtiss Thorne—handled his estate and everything—and
+being a crusty old bachelor from the age of thirty on, he idolized
+the Thorne children. Sue was his pet. She still calls him Uncle
+Dudley, and when the split came between Sue and her father
+he stuck to Sue. So I suppose that it was fairly natural that she
+turned to him when this thing burst; he’s always handled all
+her affairs, and he’s probably told her that he’s the best lawyer
+this side of the Rocky Mountains. He believes it.”</p>
+
+<p>“How old is he?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sixty-three—plenty old enough to know better. You might
+take everything that I say about these guys with a handful of
+salt; it’s only fair to inform you that they are anything but
+popular with the Fourth Estate. The only person that talks less in
+this world than Dudley Lambert is Daniel Farr; either of them
+would make a closed steel trap seem like a chatterbox. Stephen
+Bellamy’s counsel is Lambert’s junior partner and under both
+his thumbs; he’d be a nice chap if he didn’t have lockjaw.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t they tell you anything at all?” inquired the red-headed
+girl sympathetically.</p>
+
+<p>“They tell us that there’s been a murder,” replied the
+reporter gloomily. “And I’m telling you that it’s the only murder
+that ever took place in the United States of America where the
+press has been treated like an orphan child by everyone that
+knows one earthly thing about it. Not one word of the hearing
+before the grand jury has leaked out to anyone; we haven’t been
+given the name of one witness, and whatever the state’s case
+against Stephen Bellamy and Susan Ives may be, it’s a
+carefully guarded secret between Mr. Daniel Farr and Mr. Daniel
+Farr. The defense is just as expansive. So don’t believe all you
+hear from me. I’d boil the lot of ’em in oil. Here comes Ben
+Potts. To be continued in our next.”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl wasn’t listening to him; she was
+watching the dark figure of the prosecutor, moving leisurely forward
+toward the little space where twelve men were seating
+themselves quietly and unostentatiously in their stiff,
+uncomfortable chairs. Twelve men—twelve everyday, ordinary, average
+men—— She drew a sharp breath and turned her face away for
+a minute. The curtain was going up.</p>
+
+<p>“May it please Your Honour”—the prosecutor’s voice was
+very low, but as penetrating as though he were a hand-breadth
+away—“may it please Your Honour and gentlemen of the jury:
+On the night of the nineteenth of June, 1926, a little less than
+four months ago, a singularly cruel and ruthless murder took
+place not ten miles from the spot in which we have met to try
+the two who are accused of perpetrating it. On that summer
+night, which was made for youth and love and beauty, a girl
+who was young and beautiful and most desperately in love
+came out through the starlight to meet her lover. She had no
+right to meet him. She was another man’s wife, he was another
+woman’s husband. But love had made her reckless, and she
+came, with a black cloak flung over her white lace dress, and
+silver slippers that were made for dancing on feet that were
+made to dance—and that had danced for the last time. She
+was bound for the gardener’s cottage on one of the largest and
+oldest estates in the neighbourhood, known as Orchards. At
+the time of the murder, it was not occupied, and the house was
+for sale. She was hurrying, because she feared that she was late
+and that her lover might be waiting. But it was not love that
+waited for her in the little sitting room of the gardener’s cottage.</p>
+
+<p>“If you men who sit here in judgment of her murderers think
+harshly of that pretty, flushed, enchanted girl hurrying through
+the night to her tryst, remember that that tryst was with death,
+not with love, and be gentle with her, even in your thoughts.
+She has paid more dearly for the crime of loving not wisely but
+too well than many of her righteous sisters.</p>
+
+<p>“Next morning, at about nine o’clock, Mr. Herbert Conroy,
+a real-estate agent, arrived at the gardener’s cottage with a
+prospective client for the estate who wished to inspect the
+property. As he came up on the little porch he was surprised to see
+that the front door was slightly ajar, and thinking that sneak
+thieves might have broken in, he pushed it farther open and
+went in.</p>
+
+<p>“The first floor at the right of the narrow hall was the
+sitting room—what was known by the people who had formerly
+used it as the front parlour. Mr. Conroy stepped across its
+threshold, and his eyes fell on a truly appalling sight. Stretched
+out on the floor before him was a young woman in a white lace
+evening gown. A table was overturned beside her. Either there
+had been a struggle or the table had been upset as she fell. At
+her feet were the fragments of a shattered lamp chimney and
+china shade and a brass lamp.</p>
+
+<p>“The girl’s white frock was stained with blood from throat
+to hem; her silk stockings were clotted with it; even her silver
+slippers were ruinously stained. She was known to have been
+wearing a string of pearls, her wedding ring, and three
+sapphire-and-diamond rings when she left home. These jewels were
+missing. The girl on the floor—the girl who had been wilfully and
+cruelly stabbed to death—the girl whose pretty frock had been
+turned into a ghastly mockery, was Madeleine Bellamy, of
+whose murder the two defendants before you are jointly accused.</p>
+
+<p>“The man on trial is Stephen Bellamy the husband of the
+murdered girl. The woman who sits beside him is Susan Ives, the
+wife of Patrick Ives, who was the lover of Madeleine Bellamy
+and to whom she was going on that ill-starred night in June.</p>
+
+<p>“Murder, gentlemen, is an ugly and repellent thing; but this
+murder, I think that you will agree, is a peculiarly ugly and
+repellent one. It is repellent because it is the State’s contention
+that it was committed by a woman of birth, breeding, and
+refinement, to whose every instinct the very thought should have
+been abhorrent—because this lady was driven to this crime by
+a motive singularly sordid—because at her side stood a devoted
+husband, changed by jealousy to a beast to whom the death of
+his wife had become more precious than her life. It is peculiarly
+repellent because we propose to show that these two, with
+her blood still on their hands, were cool, collected, and
+deliberate enough to remove the jewels that she wore from her
+dead body in order to make this murder seem to involve robbery
+as a motive.</p>
+
+<p>“In order to be able fully to grasp the significance of the
+evidence that we propose to present to you, it is necessary that
+you should know something of the background against which
+these actors played their tragic parts. As briefly as possible, then,
+I will sketch it for you.</p>
+
+<p>“Bellechester County—your county, gentlemen, and thank
+God, my county—contains as many beautiful homes and
+delightful communities as any county in this state—or in any other
+state, for that matter—and no more delightful one exists than
+that of Rosemont, a small village about ten miles south of this
+courthouse. The village itself is a flourishing little place, but
+the real centre of attraction is the country club, about two miles
+from the village limits. About this centre cluster some charming
+homes, and in one of the most charming of them, a low,
+rambling, remodelled farmhouse, lived Patrick Ives and his wife.
+Patrick Ives is a man of about thirty-two who has made a
+surprising place for himself as a partner in one of the most
+conservative and successful investment banking houses in New York.
+I say surprising advisedly, for everyone was greatly surprised
+when about seven years ago he married Susan Thorne and
+settled down to serious work for the first time in his life. Up
+till that time, with the exception of two years at the front
+establishing a brilliant war record, he seems to have spent most
+of his time perfecting his golf game and his fox-trotting abilities
+and devoting the small portion of time that remained at his
+disposal to an anæmic real-estate business. According to all
+reports, he was—and is—likable, charming and immensely
+popular.”</p>
+
+<p>“Just one moment, Mr. Farr,” Judge Carver’s deep tones cut
+abruptly across the prosecutor’s clear, urgent voice. “Do you
+propose to prove all these statements?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly, Your Honour.”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not wish in any way to hamper you, but some of this
+seems a little far afield.”</p>
+
+<p>“I can assure Your Honour that the State proposes to connect
+all these facts with its case.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, you may proceed.”</p>
+
+<p>“At the time of the murder Mr. Ives’s household consisted
+of his wife, Susan Thorne Ives; his two children, Peter and
+Polly, aged five and six; his mother, Mrs. Daniel Ives, to whom
+he has always been an unusually devoted son; a nursery
+governess, Miss Kathleen Page; and some six or seven servants. The
+only member of the household who concerns us immediately
+is Susan, or, as she is known to her friends, Sue Ives.</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Ives is a most unusual woman. The youngest child
+and only daughter of the immensely wealthy Curtiss Thorne,
+she grew up on the old Thorne estate, Orchards, the idol of her
+father and her two brothers. Her mother died shortly after she
+was born. There was no luxury, no indulgence to which she
+was not accustomed from her earliest childhood. She was
+brilliantly intellectual and excelled at every type of athletics.
+Society, apparently, interested her very little; but there was not a
+trophy that she did not promptly capture at either golf or tennis.
+She was not particularly attractive to men, according to local
+gossip, in spite of being witty, accomplished, and charming—perhaps
+she was too witty and too accomplished for their peace
+of mind. At any rate, she set the entire community by the ears
+about seven years ago by running off with the handsome and
+impecunious Patrick Ives, just back from the war.</p>
+
+<p>“Old Curtiss Thorne, who detested Patrick Ives and had
+other plans for her, cut her off without a cent—and died two
+years later without a cent himself, ruined by the collapse of his
+business during the deflation of 1921. Just what happened to
+Patrick and Susan Ives during the three years after the
+elopement, no one knows. They disappeared into the maelstrom of
+New York. Mrs. Daniel Ives joined them, and somehow they
+must have managed to keep from starving to death. Two
+children were born to Susan Ives, and finally Patrick persuaded
+this investment house to try him out as a bond salesman. It
+developed that he had a positive genius for the business, and his
+rise has been spectacular in the extreme. He is considered to-day
+one of the most promising young men in the Street.</p>
+
+<p>“At the end of four years, the Iveses and their babies
+returned to Rosemont. They bought an old farmhouse with some
+seven or eight acres about a mile from the club, remodelled it,
+landscaped it, put in a tennis court, and became the most
+sought-after young couple in Rosemont. On the surface, they
+seemed ideally happy. Two charming children, a charming
+home, plenty of money, congenial enough tastes—such things
+should go far to create a paradise, shouldn’t they? Well, down
+this smooth, easy, flower-strewn, and garlanded path Patrick
+and Susan Ives were hurrying straight toward hell. In order to
+understand why this was true, you must know something of
+two other people and their lives.</p>
+
+<p>“About a mile and a half from the Ives house was another
+farmhouse, on the outskirts of the village, but this one had not
+been remodelled. It was small, shabby, in poor repair—no
+tennis court, no gardens, a cheap portable garage, a meagre half
+acre of land inadequately surrounded by a rickety fence.
+Everything is comparative in this world. To the dwellers in
+tenements and slums, that house would have been a little palace. To
+the dweller in the stone palaces that line the Hudson, it would
+be a slum. To Madeleine Bellamy, whose home it was, it was
+undoubtedly a constant humiliation and irritation.</p>
+
+<p>“Mimi Bellamy—in all likelihood no one in Rosemont had
+heard her called Madeleine since the day that she was
+christened—Mimi Bellamy was an amazingly beautiful creature.
+‘Beauty’ is a much cheapened and battered word; in murder
+trials it is loosely applied to either the victim or the murderess
+if either of them happened to be under fifty and not actually
+deformed. I am not referring to that type of beauty. Mimi
+Bellamy’s beauty was of the type that in Trojan days launched
+a thousand ships and in these days launches a musical comedy.
+Hers was beauty that is a disastrous gift—not the common-place
+prettiness of a small-town belle, though such, it seems,
+was the rôle in which fate had cast her.</p>
+
+<p>“I am showing you her picture, cut from the local paper—crudely
+taken, crudely printed, many times enlarged, yet even
+all these factors cannot dim her radiance. It was taken shortly
+before she died—not two months before, as a matter of fact.
+It cannot give the flowerlike beauty of her colouring, the
+red-gold hair, the sea-blue eyes, the exquisite flush of exultant
+youth that played about her like an enchantment; but perhaps
+even this cold, black-and-white shadow of a laughing girl in a
+flowered frock will give you enough of a suggestion of her
+warm enchantment to make the incredible disaster that resulted
+from that enchantment more credible. It is for that purpose
+that I am showing it to you now, and to remind you, if you
+feel pity for another woman, that never more again in all this
+world will that girl’s laughter be heard, young and careless
+and joyous. I ask you most solemnly to remember that.</p>
+
+<p>“Mimi Dawson Bellamy was the daughter of the village
+dressmaker, who had married Frederick Dawson, a man
+considerably above her socially, as he was a moderately successful
+real-estate broker in the village of Rosemont. He was by no
+manner of means a member of the local smart set, however,
+and was not even a member of the country club. They lived in
+a comfortable, unpretentious house a little off the main street,
+and in the boarding house next to them lived Mrs. Daniel Ives
+and her son Patrick.</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Ives, a widow, was very highly regarded in the
+village, to which she had come many years previously, and was
+extremely industrious in her efforts to supplement their meagre
+income. She gave music lessons, did mending, looked after small
+children whose mothers were at the movies, and did everything
+in her power to assist her son, whose principal contribution
+to their welfare up to the time that he was twenty-one seemed
+to be a genuine devotion to his mother. At that age Mr.
+Dawson took him in to work with him in the real-estate business,
+hoping that his charm and engaging manners would make up
+for his lack of experience and industry. To a certain extent
+they did, but they created considerably more havoc with Mr.
+Dawson’s beautiful daughter than they did with his clients.
+A boy-and-girl affair immediately sprang up between these
+two—the exquisite, precocious child of seventeen and the
+handsome boy of twenty-two were seen everywhere together, and
+it was a thoroughly understood thing that Mimi Dawson and
+Pat Ives were going together, and that one of these days they
+would go as far as the altar.</p>
+
+<p>“A year later war was declared. Patrick Ives enlisted at
+once, and was among the first to reach France. The whole
+village believed that if he came back alive he would marry
+Mimi. But they were counting without Mimi.</p>
+
+<p>“War, gentlemen, changed more things than the map of
+Europe. It changed the entire social map in many an American
+community; it changed, drastically and surprisingly, the social
+map of the community of Rosemont in the county of
+Bellechester. For the first time since the country club was built and
+many of the residents of New York discovered that it was
+possible to live in the country and work in the city, the barrier
+between the villagers and the country club members was
+lowered, and over this lowered barrier stepped Mimi Dawson,
+straight into the charmed sewing circles, knitting circles, Red
+Cross circles, bandage-making circles that had sprung up
+over-night—straight, moreover, into the charmed circle of society,
+about whose edges she had wistfully hovered—and straight,
+moreover, into the life of Elliot Farwell.</p>
+
+<p>“Elliot Farwell was the younger brother of Mrs. George
+Dallas, at whose house met the Red Cross Circle of which
+Mrs. Dallas was president. Many of the village girls were
+asked to join her class in bandage making—after all, we were
+fighting this war to make the world safe for democracy, so why
+not be democratic? A pair of hands from the village was just
+as good as a pair of hands from the club—possibly better. So
+little Mimi Dawson found herself sitting next to the great
+Miss Thorne, wrapping wisps of cotton about bits of wood and
+going home to the village with rapidly increasing regularity in
+Mr. Elliot Farwell’s new automobile, quite without the
+knowledge or sanction of Mr. Farwell’s sister, whose democracy
+might not have stood the strain.</p>
+
+<p>“Elliot Farwell was one of the two or three young men left
+in Rosemont. His eyes made it impossible for him to get into
+any branch of the service, so he remained peaceably at home,
+attending to a somewhat perfunctory business in the city as a
+promoter. He would have had to be blind enough to require
+the services of a dog and a tin cup not to have noted Mimi
+Dawson’s beauty, however; as a matter of fact, he noted it so
+intently that three months after peace was declared and three
+weeks before Patrick Ives returned from the war, Mr. and
+Mrs. Frederick Dawson announced the engagement of their
+daughter Madeleine to Mr. Elliot Farwell—and a startled
+world. Not the least startled member of this world, possibly,
+was Susan Thorne, to whom young Farwell had been
+moderately attentive for several years.</p>
+
+<p>“Such was the state of affairs when the tide of exodus to
+Europe turned, and back on the very crest of the incoming
+waves rode Major Patrick Ives, booted, spurred, belted, and
+decorated—straight over the still-lowered barrier into the very
+heart of the country-club set. He was, not unnaturally, charmed
+with his surroundings, and apparently the fact that he found
+Mimi Dawson already installed there with a fiancé did not
+dampen his spirits in the slightest. From the day that he first
+went around the golf course with Susan Thorne, he was as
+invariably at her side as her shadow. Mr. Curtiss Thorne’s
+open and violent disapproval left them unchastened and
+inseparable. Apparently they found the world well lost, as did
+Farwell and his fiancée. And into the midst of this idyllic scene,
+a month or so later, wanders the last of our actors, Stephen
+Bellamy.</p>
+
+<p>“Stephen Bellamy was older than these others—seven years
+older than Susan Thorne or Patrick Ives, twelve years older
+than the radiant Mimi. He was the best friend of Susan’s
+elder brother Douglas, and a junior partner of Curtiss Thorne.
+He had done well in the war, as he had in his business, and he
+was generally supposed to be the best masculine catch in
+Rosemont—intelligent, distinguished, and thoroughly substantial.
+It was everybody’s secret that Curtiss Thorne wanted him for
+his son-in-law, and he and Elliot Farwell were the nearest
+approaches to beaus that Susan Thorne had had before the war.</p>
+
+<p>“Within a week of their respective returns, she had lost both
+of them. The sober, reserved, conservative Stephen Bellamy
+fell even more violently and abjectly a victim to Mimi
+Dawson’s charms than had Elliot Farwell. The fact that she was
+engaged to another man who had been at least a pleasant
+acquaintance of his did not seem to deter Mr. Bellamy for a
+second. At any rate, the third week in June in 1919 brought
+three shocks to the conservative community of Rosemont that
+left it rocking for many moons to come. On Monday, after a
+violent and public quarrel with Farwell, Mimi Dawson broke
+her engagement to him; on Wednesday Sue Thorne eloped
+with Patrick Ives, and on Thursday Miss Dawson and Mr.
+Bellamy were married by the justice of the peace in this very
+courthouse.</p>
+
+<p>“It is a long stride from that amazing week in June to
+another June, but I ask you to make it with me. In the seven
+years that have passed, the seeds that were sown in those
+far-off days—seeds of discord, of heartbreak, of envy and
+malice—have waxed and grown into a mighty vine, heavy with bitter
+fruit; and the day of harvest is at hand—and the hands of
+the harvesters shall be red. But on this peaceful sunny summer
+afternoon of the nineteenth of June, 1926, those who are
+sitting in the vine’s shadow seem to find it a tranquil and a
+pleasant place.</p>
+
+<p>“It is five o’clock at the Rosemont Country Club, and the
+people that I have brought before you in the brief time at my
+disposal are gathered on the lawn in front of the club; the
+golfers are just coming in; it is the prettiest and gayest hour
+of the day. Mimi Bellamy is there, waiting for her husband.
+She has driven over in their little car to take him home for
+supper; it is parked just now beside Sue Ives’s sleek and shining
+car with its sleek and shining chauffeur, and possibly Mimi
+Bellamy is wondering what strange fate makes one man a
+failure in the world of business and another a success. For the
+industrious and intelligent Stephen Bellamy has never recovered
+from the setback that he received when Curtiss Thorne’s
+business crashed; he is still struggling valiantly to keep a roof over
+his wife’s enchanting head—he can do little more. True, they
+have a maid of all work and a man of all work; but Sue Ives,
+who married the village ne’er-do-well, has eight servants and
+three cars and the prettiest gardens in Rosemont. So does fate
+make fools of the shrewdest of us!</p>
+
+<p>“Gathered about in little groups are the George Dallases,
+Elliot Farwell, and Richard Burgoyne, the man with whom he
+keeps bachelor hall in a small bungalow near the village; the
+Ned Conroys and Sue Ives, whose husband has been cheated out
+of golf by a business engagement in the city, in spite of the
+fact that it is Saturday afternoon. She has, however, found
+another cavalier. Seated on the club steps, a little apart from the
+others, she is deep in conversation with Elliot Farwell, who
+is consuming his third highball in rapid succession. Gentlemen,
+if I could let you eavesdrop on the seemingly casual and
+actually momentous discussion that is going on behind those amiable
+masks, much that is dark to you now would be clear as day. I
+ask your patient and intelligent interest until that moment
+arrives. It will arrive, I promise you.</p>
+
+<p>“For here, on this sunlit lawn, I propose to leave them for
+the present. Others will tell you what happened from that
+sunlit moment until the dark and dreadful one in the gardener’s
+little cottage, when a knife rose and fell. I have not gone thus
+exhaustively into the shadowy past from which these figures
+sprang in order to retail to you the careless chatter of a country
+club and a country village. I have gone into it because I have
+felt it entirely imperative that you should know the essential
+facts in the light of which you will be able to read more clearly
+the evidence that I am about to submit to you. It is inevitable
+that each one of you must say to himself as you sit there: ‘How
+is it possible that this young woman seated before our eyes,
+charming, well bred, sheltered, controlled, intelligent—how is
+it possible that this woman can have wilfully, brutally, and
+deliberately murdered another woman? How is it possible that
+the man seated beside her, a gentleman born and bred,
+irreproachable in every phase of his past life, can have aided and
+abetted her in her project?’</p>
+
+<p>“How are these things possible, you ask? Gentleman, I say
+to you that we expect to prove that these things are not
+possible—we expect to prove that these things are certain. I am
+speaking neither rashly nor lightly when I assure you that the
+state believes that it can demonstrate their certainty beyond the
+shadow of a possible doubt. I am not seeking a conviction; I am
+no bloodhound baying for a victim. If you can find it in your
+hearts when I have done with this case to hold these two
+guiltless, you will, indeed, be fortunate—and I can find in my heart
+no desire to deprive you of that good fortune. It is my most
+painful duty, however, to place the facts before you and to let
+them speak for themselves.</p>
+
+<p>“I ask you, gentlemen, to bear these things in mind. Susan
+Ives is a woman accustomed to luxury and security; she has
+once before been roughly deprived of it. What dreadful scars
+those three years in New York left on the gallant and spirited
+girl who went so recklessly to face them we can only surmise.
+But perhaps it is sufficient to say that the scars seared so deep
+that they sealed her lips forever. I have not been able to
+discover that she has mentioned them to one solitary soul, and I
+have questioned many. She was threatened with a hideous
+repetition of this nightmare. Her religious principles, as you will
+learn, prevented her from ever accepting or seeking a divorce,
+and she was too intelligent not to be fully aware that if Patrick
+Ives ran away with Mimi Bellamy, he would inevitably have
+lost his position in the ultra-conservative house in which he was
+a partner, and thus be absolutely precluded from providing for
+her or her children, even if he had so desired.</p>
+
+<p>“The position of a young woman thrown entirely on her
+own resources, with two small children on her hands, is a
+desperate one, and it is our contention that Susan Ives turned
+to desperate remedies. Added to this terror was what must have
+been a truly appalling hatred for the girl who was about to
+turn her sunny and sheltered existence into a nightmare.
+Cupidity, love, revenge—every murder in this world that is not
+the result of a drunken blow springs from one of these motives.
+Gentlemen, the state contends that Susan Ives was moved by
+all three.</p>
+
+<p>“As for Stephen Bellamy, his idolatry of his young and
+beautiful wife was his life—a drab and colourless life save for the
+light and colour that she brought to it. When he discovered that
+she had turned that idolatry to mockery, madness descended on
+him—the madness that sent Othello staggering to his wife’s
+bed with death in his hands; the madness that has caused that
+wretched catch phrase ‘the unwritten law’ to become almost as
+potent as our written code—to our shame, be it said. Do not be
+deceived by the memory of that phrase, gentlemen. There was
+another law, written centuries ago in letters of flame on the
+peaks of a mountain—‘Thou shalt not kill.’ Remember that
+law written in flame and forget the one that has been traced
+only in the blood of its victims. These two before you stand
+accused of breaking that law, written on Sinai—that sacred
+law on which hangs all the security of the society that we have
+so laboriously wrought out of chaos and horror—and we are
+now about to show you why they are thus accused.</p>
+
+<p>“From the first step that each took toward the dark way
+that was to lead them to the room in the gardener’s cottage, we
+will trace them—to its very threshold—across its threshold.
+There I will leave them, my duty will have been done. Yours,
+gentlemen, will be yet to do, and I am entirely convinced that,
+however painful, however hateful, however dreadful, it may
+seem to you, you will not shrink from performing that duty.”</p>
+
+<p>The compelling voice with its curious ring fell abruptly to
+silence—a silence that lingered, deepened, and then abruptly
+broke into irrepressible and incautious clamour.</p>
+
+<p>“Silence! Silence!”</p>
+
+<p>Ben Potts’s voice and Judge Carver’s gavel thundered down
+the voices.</p>
+
+<p>“Once and for all, this courtroom is not a place for
+conversation. Kindly remain silent while you are in it. Court is
+dismissed for the day. It will convene again at ten to-morrow.”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl dragged stiffly to her feet. The first
+day of the Bellamy trial was over.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch02">
+
+<h2>Chapter II</h2>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl was late. The clock over the
+courtroom door said three minutes past ten. She flung
+herself, breathless, into the seat next to the lanky
+young man and inquired in a tragic whisper, “Have they
+started?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nope,” replied that imperturbable individual. “Calm
+yourself. You haven’t missed a single hear ye. Your hat’s a
+good deal over one eye.”</p>
+
+<p>“I ran all the way from the station,” gasped the red-headed
+girl. “Every step. There’s not a taxi in this whole abominable
+place. And you were gone last night before I had a chance to
+ask you what you thought of the prosecutor’s speech.”</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps that’s why I went.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, truly, what did you think of it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I think that boys being boys, jurors being jurors,
+prosecutors being prosecutors, and Mrs. Patrick Ives being
+Mrs. Patrick Ives, he did about as well as could be
+expected—better than I expected.”</p>
+
+<p>“He can’t prove all those things, can he?” asked the
+red-headed girl, looking a little pale.</p>
+
+<p>“Ah, that’s it! When you get right down to it, the only
+things of any importance that he claimed he was going to
+prove were in one last sentence: That Bellamy and Sue Ives
+met and went to the front parlour of the gardener’s cottage, to
+confront Mimi Bellamy—that’s his case. And a pretty good
+case, too, if you ask me. The rest of it was just a lot of good
+fancy, expansive words strung together in order to create pity,
+horror, prejudice, and suspicion in the eyes of the jury. And
+granted that purpose, they weren’t bad words, though there
+were a few bits that absolutely yelled for ‘Hearts and Flowers’
+on muted strings somewhere in the background—that little piece
+about going through the starlight to her lover. . . .”</p>
+
+<p>“I thought the idea was that the prosecutor was after truth,
+not a conviction,” said the red-headed girl gravely.</p>
+
+<p>“The ideal, not the idea, my child. You didn’t precisely get
+the notion that he was urging the jury to consider that, though
+there was a pretty strong case against Mrs. Ives and Stephen
+Bellamy, there were a whole lot of other people who might
+have done it too—or did you?”</p>
+
+<p>“He certainly said most distinctly that he wasn’t any
+bloodhound baying for a victim.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, if he isn’t, I’ll bet that he gives such a good
+imitation of one that if Eliza should happen to hear him while
+she was crossing the ice she’d take two cakes at one jump.
+What did I tell you about Mr. Farr and the classics? Did you
+get ‘she loved not wisely but too well’? That beats ‘I could not
+not love thee, dear, so much.’ ”</p>
+
+<p>Ben Potts’s high, clear voice pulled them abruptly to their
+feet. “The Court!”</p>
+
+<p>Through the little door behind the dais came the tall figure
+of Judge Carver, his spacious silks folding him in dignity—rather
+a splendid figure. The jury, the counsel, the
+defendants—Mrs. Ives was wearing the same hat . . .</p>
+
+<p>“Hear ye! Hear ye! Hear ye! All those having business
+before this honourable court draw near, give your attention, and
+you shall be heard!”</p>
+
+<p>The clear singsong was drowned in the rustle of those in the
+courtroom sinking back into their seats.</p>
+
+<p>“Is Mr. Conroy in court?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Herbert Conroy!” intoned the crier.</p>
+
+<p>All heads turned to watch the small spare figure hurrying
+down the aisle toward the witness box.</p>
+
+<p>“You do solemnly swear that the testimony that you shall
+give to the court and jury in this case now on trial shall be
+truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you
+God?”</p>
+
+<p>“I do.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Conroy’s faded blue eyes darted about him quietly as
+he mounted the stand, as though he were looking for a way out.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Conroy, what is your profession?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am a real-estate broker.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is your office in Rosemont?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir; my office is in New York. My home, however, is
+in Brierdale, about three miles north of Rosemont.”</p>
+
+<p>“Have you the agency of the Thorne property, Orchards?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have.”</p>
+
+<p>“To whom does that property belong?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was left by Mr. Curtiss Thorne’s will to his two sons,
+Charles and Douglas. Charles was killed in the war, and it
+therefore reverted to the elder son, Douglas. He is now the
+sole owner.”</p>
+
+<p>“And he placed it with you to sell?”</p>
+
+<p>“To sell or to rent—preferably to sell.”</p>
+
+<p>“Have you had offers for it?”</p>
+
+<p>“None that we regarded as satisfactory; it was too large
+a property to appeal to the average man in the market for a
+country home, as it consisted of more than eighty acres and
+a house of twenty-four rooms. On the afternoon of the
+nineteenth of June, 1926, however, I showed the photographs of
+the house to a gentleman from Cleveland who was about
+to transfer his business to the East. He was delighted with them
+and made no quibble about the price if the property proved
+to be all that it seemed.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were in New York at this time?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; and a dinner engagement there prevented me from
+taking him out to Rosemont that afternoon. He was extremely
+anxious, however, to see it as soon as possible, as he was
+leaving for the West the following afternoon. So I arranged to take
+him next morning at nine o’clock.”</p>
+
+<p>“And did so?”</p>
+
+<p>“And did so.”</p>
+
+<p>“Now will you be good enough to tell us, Mr. Conroy, just
+what happened when you arrived with this gentleman at
+Orchards on the morning of the twentieth?”</p>
+
+<p>“We drove out from New York in my roadster, arriving at
+the lodge gates of the property shortly after nine o’clock, I
+should say. I was to collect the keys under the doormat at the
+gardener’s cottage, which was halfway between the lodge and
+the main house——”</p>
+
+<p>“Just a moment, Mr. Conroy. Was the lodge occupied?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; at this particular time no building on the place was
+occupied. In Mr. Curtiss Thorne’s day, the lodge was occupied
+by the chauffeur and his family, the gardener’s cottage by the
+gardener and his family, and there was another cottage used
+by a farmer on the extreme western boundary. None of these
+had been occupied for some time, with the exception of the
+gardener’s cottage, whose occupants had been given a vacation
+of two months in order to visit their aged parents in Italy. Shall
+I go on?”</p>
+
+<p>“Please.”</p>
+
+<p>“The gardener’s cottage is a low five-room building at a
+bend of the road, and is practically concealed as you
+approach it from the main driveway by the very high shrubbery
+that surrounds it—lilacs, syringa, and the like. There is a
+little drive that shoots off from the main driveway and circles
+the cottage, and we drove in there, to the front of the house, and
+mounted the steps to the front porch, as my client wished to
+see the interior. Just as I bent down to secure the keys, I
+was surprised to see that the door was slightly ajar. I picked
+up the keys, pushed it farther open, and went in, rather
+expecting that sneak thieves might have preceded me.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Conroy paused for a moment in his steady, precise
+narrative, his pale face a little paler. “Shall I continue?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly.”</p>
+
+<p>“On my left was the dining room, with the door closed;
+on my right, the room known as the parlour. The door was
+open, but only a small section of the room was visible from the
+corridor, and it was not until I had crossed the threshold that
+I realized that something frightful had occurred. In the corner
+of the room farthest from the door——”</p>
+
+<p>“Just a minute, please. Was your client with you when you
+entered the room?”</p>
+
+<p>“He was a step or so behind me, I believe. In the corner
+of the room was the—the body of a young woman in a
+white frock. A small table was overturned beside her, and
+at her feet was a lamp, the chimney and shade shattered and
+some oil spilled on the floor. The smell of the kerosene was
+very strong—very strong indeed.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Conroy looked a little ill, as though the odour of that
+spilled kerosene were still about him.</p>
+
+<p>“Was the girl’s head toward you, or her feet, Mr. Conroy?”</p>
+
+<p>“Her feet. Her head was resting on the corner of a low
+fender—a species of steel railing—that circled the base of a
+Franklin stove.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you notice anything else?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; I noticed that there was blood.” He glanced about
+him swiftly, as though he were startled by the sound of the
+word, and lowered his voice. “A great deal of blood.”</p>
+
+<p>“On the dress?”</p>
+
+<p>“Principally on the dress. I believe that there was also a
+little on the carpet, though I could not be sure of that. But
+principally it was on the dress.”</p>
+
+<p>“Can you tell us about the dress?”</p>
+
+<p>Again Mr. Conroy’s haunted eyes went wandering. “The
+dress? It was soaked in blood, sir—I think I may say that it
+was soaked in blood.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, no—I mean what kind of a dress was it? An evening
+dress?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I hardly know. I suppose you might call it that.
+Not a ball gown, you understand—just a thin lacy dress, with
+the neck cut out a little and short sleeves. I remember that
+quite well—the lady’s arms were bare.”</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor, who had been carelessly fingering some
+papers and pamphlets on the top of a small square box, brushed
+them impatiently aside and scooped something else out of its
+depths.</p>
+
+<p>“Was this the dress, Mr. Conroy?”</p>
+
+<p>The long screech of Mr. Conroy’s chair as he shoved it
+violently back tore through the courtroom like something
+human, echoing through every heart. The prosecutor was
+nonchalantly dangling before the broker’s staring eyes a crumpled
+object—a white dress, streaked and splotched and dotted with
+that most ominous colour known to the eyes of man—the
+curious rusted sinister red of dried blood.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said Mr. Conroy, his voice barely above a
+whisper—“yes, yes; that is it—that is the dress.”</p>
+
+<p>The fascinated eyes of the spectators wrenched themselves
+from the dress to the two defendants. Susan Ives was not
+looking at it. Her head was as high as ever, her lips as steady,
+but her eyes were bent intently on a scrap of paper that she held
+in her gloved fingers. Apparently Mrs. Ives was deeply
+interested in the contents.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen Bellamy was not reading. He sat watching that
+handful of lace and blood as though it were Medusa’s head,
+his blank, unswerving eyes riveted to it by something inexorable
+and intolerable. His face was as quiet as Susan Ives’s, save for
+a dreadful little ripple of muscles about the set mouth—the
+ripple that comes from clenched teeth, clenched harder,
+harder—harder still, lest there escape through them some sound not
+meant for decent human ears. Save for that ripple, he did
+not move a hairbreadth.</p>
+
+<p>“Was the blood on this dress dry when you first saw it, Mr.
+Conroy?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, it was not dry.”</p>
+
+<p>“You ascertained that by touching it?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Conroy’s small neat body seemed to contract farther
+into itself.</p>
+
+<p>“No, I did not touch it. It was not necessary to touch it to
+see that. It—it was quite apparent.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see. Your Honour, I ask to have this dress marked for
+identification.”</p>
+
+<p>“It may be marked,” said Judge Carver quietly, eyeing it
+steadily and gravely for a moment before he returned to his
+notes.</p>
+
+<p>“Got that?” inquired Mr. Farr briskly, handing it over to
+the clerk of the court. “I offer it in evidence.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are there any objections?” inquired Judge Carver.</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour, I fail to see what necessity there is
+for——”</p>
+
+<p>The judge cut sharply across Lambert’s voice: “You are
+not required to be the arbiter of that, Mr. Lambert. The
+state is conducting its case without your assistance, to the best
+of my knowledge. Do you object, and if so, on what grounds?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert’s ruddy countenance became a shade more
+ruddy. He opened his mouth, thought better of it, and closed
+it with an audible snap. “No objection.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Conroy, did you notice whether the slippers were
+stained?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes—yes, they were considerably stained.”</p>
+
+<p>“What type of slippers were they?”</p>
+
+<p>“They were shiny slippers, with very high heels and some
+kind of bright, sparkling little buckles, I believe.”</p>
+
+<p>“Like these?” Once more the resourceful Mr. Farr had
+delved into the square box, and he placed the result of his
+research deftly on the edge of the witness box. A pair of
+silver slippers with rhinestone buckles, exquisite and inadequate
+enough for the most foolish of women, small enough for a
+man to hold in one outstretched hand—sparkling, absurd, and
+coquettish, they perched on that dark rim, the buckles gleaming
+valiantly above the dark and sinister splotches that turned them
+from gay and charming toys to tokens of horror.</p>
+
+<p>“Those are the slippers,” said Mr. Conroy, his shaken voice
+barely audible.</p>
+
+<p>“I offer them in evidence.”</p>
+
+<p>“No objections.” Mr. Lambert’s voice was an objection in
+itself.</p>
+
+<p>“Now, Mr. Conroy, will you be good enough to tell us
+what you did as soon as you made this discovery?”</p>
+
+<p>“I said to my client, ‘There has been foul play here. We
+must get the police.’ ”</p>
+
+<p>“No, not what you said, Mr. Conroy—what you did.”</p>
+
+<p>“I returned to my roadster with my client, locking the front
+door behind me with a key from the ring that I had found
+under the doormat, and drove as rapidly as possible to police
+headquarters in Rosemont, reporting what I had discovered.”</p>
+
+<p>“Just what did you report?”</p>
+
+<p>“I reported that I had found the body of Mrs. Stephen
+Bellamy in the gardener’s cottage of the old Thorne place, and
+that it looked as though she had been murdered.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you recognized Mrs. Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. She was a friend of my sister-in-law, who lives in
+Rosemont. I had met her on two occasions.”</p>
+
+<p>“And what did you do then?”</p>
+
+<p>“I considered that the matter was then out of my hands,
+but I endeavoured to reach Mr. Douglas Thorne by telephone,
+to tell him what had occurred. I was not successful, however,
+and returned immediately to New York with my client.”</p>
+
+<p>“He decided not to inspect the place farther?”</p>
+
+<p>For the first time Mr. Conroy permitted himself a small,
+pallid, apologetic ghost of a smile. “Exactly. He decided that
+under the circumstances he did not desire to go farther with
+the transaction. It did not seem to him, if I may so express it,
+a particularly auspicious omen.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that’s quite comprehensible. Did you notice when
+you were in this parlour whether Mrs. Bellamy was wearing
+any jewellery, Mr. Conroy?”</p>
+
+<p>“To the best of my recollection, she was not, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are quite sure of that?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am not able to swear to it, but it is my distinct
+impression that she was not. I was only in the room a minute or
+so, you understand, but I still retain a most vivid picture of
+it—a most vivid picture, I may say.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Conroy passed a weary hand over his high brow, and
+that vivid picture seemed suddenly to float before the eyes
+of every occupant of the court.</p>
+
+<p>“You did not see a weapon?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. I could not swear that one was not there, but certainly
+I did not see one.”</p>
+
+<p>“I understood you to say that you locked the front door of
+the gardener’s cottage with one of the keys that you found
+on the ring under the mat. How many keys were on that
+ring?”</p>
+
+<p>“Seven or eight, I think—a key to the lodge, to the garage
+opposite the lodge, to the gardener’s cottage, to the farmer’s
+house, to the front and back doors of the main house, and to
+the cellar—possibly others.”</p>
+
+<p>“Didn’t it ever strike you as a trifle imprudent to keep these
+keys in such an unprotected spot, Mr. Conroy?”</p>
+
+<p>“We did not consider it an unprotected spot, sir. The
+gardener’s cottage was a long way from the road, and it did not
+seem at all likely that they would be discovered.”</p>
+
+<p>“Whom do you mean by ‘we,’ Mr. Conroy?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Conroy made a small restless movement. “I was
+referring to Mr. Douglas Thorne and myself.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Mr. Thorne knew that the keys were kept there,
+did he?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, quite so—naturally.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why ‘naturally,’ Mr. Conroy?”</p>
+
+<p>“I said naturally—I said naturally because Mr. Thorne
+had placed them there himself.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I see. And when had Mr. Thorne placed them there?”</p>
+
+<p>“He had placed them there on the previous evening.”</p>
+
+<p>“On the previous evening?” Even the prosecutor’s voice
+sounded startled.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“At what time?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am not sure of the exact time.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, can you tell us approximately?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am not able to state positively even the approximate
+time.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was it before seven in the evening?”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not believe so.”</p>
+
+<p>“How did you acquire the knowledge that Mr. Thorne was
+to leave those keys at the cottage, Mr. Conroy?”</p>
+
+<p>“By telephone.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Thorne telephoned you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I telephoned Mr. Thorne.”</p>
+
+<p>“At what time?”</p>
+
+<p>“At about half-past six on the evening of the nineteenth.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see. Will you be good enough to give us the gist of what
+you said to him over the telephone?”</p>
+
+<p>“I had been trying to reach Mr. Thorne for some time,
+both at his home in Lakedale and in town.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Thorne does not live in Rosemont?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; he lives the other side of Lakedale, which is about
+twelve miles nearer New York. When I finally reached him,
+after his return from a golf match, I explained to him the
+urgency of getting into the house as early as possible the
+following morning and suggested that he might drive over
+after dinner and leave the keys under the mat of the cottage.
+I apologized to Mr. Thorne for causing him so much trouble,
+and he remarked that it was no trouble at all, as——”</p>
+
+<p>“No, not what he remarked, Mr. Conroy—only what you
+said.”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not remember that I said anything further of any
+importance.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you know at what time Mr. Thorne is in the habit of
+dining, Mr. Conroy?”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“How long should you say that it would take to drive
+from Mr. Thorne’s home to Orchards?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is, roughly, about fourteen miles. I should imagine
+that it would depend entirely on the rate at which you
+drove.”</p>
+
+<p>“Driving at an ordinary rate, some thirty-five to forty
+minutes, should you say?”</p>
+
+<p>“Possibly.”</p>
+
+<p>“So that if Mr. Thorne had finished his dinner at about
+eight, he would have arrived at Orchards shortly before nine?”</p>
+
+<p>“I really couldn’t tell you, Mr. Farr. You know quite as
+much about that as I do.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Conroy’s small, harassed, unhappy face looked almost
+defiant for a moment, and then wavered under the geniality of
+the prosecutor’s infrequent smile.</p>
+
+<p>“I believe that you are right, Mr. Conroy.” He turned
+abruptly toward the court crier. “Is Mr. Douglas Thorne in
+court?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Douglas Thorne!” intoned the crier in his high,
+pleasant falsetto.</p>
+
+<p>A tall lean man, bronzed and distinguished, rose promptly
+to his feet from his seat in the fourth row. “Here, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Thorne, will you be good enough to speak to me after
+court is over? . . . Thanks. That will be all, Mr. Conroy.
+Cross-examine.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert approached the witness box with a curious
+air of caution.</p>
+
+<p>“It was entirely at your suggestion that Mr. Thorne brought
+the keys, was it not, Mr. Conroy?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, certainly—entirely.”</p>
+
+<p>“He might have left them there at eight o’clock or at even
+eleven o’clock, as far as you know?”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly.”</p>
+
+<p>“That is all, Mr. Conroy.”</p>
+
+<p>“No further questions,” said the prosecutor curtly. “Call
+Dr. Paul Stanley.”</p>
+
+<p>“Dr. Paul Stanley!”</p>
+
+<p>The man who took Herbert Conroy’s place in the witness
+box was a comfortable-looking individual with a fine thatch of
+gray hair and an amiable and intelligent countenance, which he
+turned benignly on the prosecutor.</p>
+
+<p>“What is your profession, Dr. Stanley?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am a surgeon. In my early youth I was that now fabulous
+creature, a general practitioner.”</p>
+
+<p>He smiled engagingly at the prosecutor, and the crowded
+courtroom relaxed. A nice, restful individual, after the haunted
+little real-estate broker.</p>
+
+<p>“You have performed autopsies before, Dr. Stanley?”</p>
+
+<p>“Frequently.”</p>
+
+<p>“And in this case you performed the autopsy on the body of
+Madeleine Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>“I did.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where did you first see the body?”</p>
+
+<p>“In the front room of the gardener’s cottage on the Thorne
+estate.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you hear Mr. Conroy’s testimony?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was the body in the position in which he described it at
+the time that he saw it?”</p>
+
+<p>“In exactly that position. Later, for purposes of the autopsy,
+it was removed to the room opposite—the dining room.”</p>
+
+<p>“Please tell us under what circumstances you first saw the
+body.”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly.” Dr. Stanley settled himself a trifle more
+comfortably in his chair and turned a trifle toward the jury, who
+stared back gratefully into his friendly countenance. If Dr.
+Stanley had been explaining just how he reeled in the biggest
+trout of the season, he could not have looked more affably
+at ease. “I went out to the cottage with my friend Elias
+Dutton, the coroner, and two or three state troopers. Mr.
+Conroy had turned over the key to the cottage to us, and we
+found everything as he had described it to us.”</p>
+
+<p>“Were there signs of a struggle?”</p>
+
+<p>“You mean on the body?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes—scratches, bruises, torn or disarranged clothing?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, there were no signs of any description of a struggle,
+save for the overturned table and the lamp.”</p>
+
+<p>“Might that have happened when Mrs. Bellamy fell?”</p>
+
+<p>“The table might very readily have been overturned at
+that time; it was toward Mrs. Bellamy’s head and almost
+on top of the body. The lamp, on the other hand, was
+practically at her feet.”</p>
+
+<p>“Could it have rolled there as the table crashed?”</p>
+
+<p>“Possibly, but it’s doubtful. The fragments of lamp chimney
+and shade were there, too, you see, some six feet away from
+the table.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see. Will you tell us now, Dr. Stanley, just what caused
+the death of Mrs. Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Bellamy’s heart was punctured by some sharp
+instrument—a knife, I should say.”</p>
+
+<p>“There was only one wound?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Will you please describe it to us?”</p>
+
+<p>“There was a clean incision about three quarters of an inch
+long in the skin just over the heart. The instrument had
+penetrated to a depth of approximately three inches, and had passed
+between the ribs over the heart.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was it necessary that the blow should have been delivered
+with great force?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not necessarily. If the knife had struck a rib, it would
+have taken considerable force to deflect it, but in this case
+it encountered no obstacle whatever.”</p>
+
+<p>“So that a woman with a strong wrist could have struck
+the blow?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, certainly—or a woman with a weak wrist—or a
+child—or a strong man, as far as that goes. There is no
+evidence at all from the wound as to the force with which the
+blow was delivered.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see.” Mr. Farr reached casually over to the clerk’s desk
+and handed Dr. Stanley the dreadful rag that had been
+Madeleine Bellamy’s white lace dress. “Do you recognize this
+dress, Doctor?”</p>
+
+<p>“Perfectly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Will you be good enough to indicate to us just where the
+knife penetrated the fabric?”</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Stanley turned it deftly in his long-fingered, capable
+hands. Something in that skilful scientific touch seemed to
+purge it of horror—averted eyes travelled back to it warily.</p>
+
+<p>“The knife went through it right here. If you look closely,
+you can see the severed threads—just here, where the stain
+is darkest.”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly. Would such a wound have caused instantaneous
+death, Doctor, in your opinion?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not instantaneous—no. Death would follow very rapidly,
+however.”</p>
+
+<p>“A minute or so?”</p>
+
+<p>“A few minutes—the loss of blood would be tremendous.”</p>
+
+<p>“Would the victim be likely to make much
+outcry—screaming, moaning, or the like?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, it’s a little difficult to generalize about that. In this
+particular case, there is reason to doubt whether there was any
+outcry after the blow was struck.”</p>
+
+<p>“What reason have you to suppose that?”</p>
+
+<p>“I think that Mr. Conroy has already testified that Mrs.
+Bellamy’s head was resting on the corner of a steel fire guard—a
+pierced railing about six inches high. It is my belief that,
+when she received the blow, she staggered, clutched at the
+table, and fell, striking the back of her head against the
+railing with sufficient force to render her totally unconscious. There
+was a serious abrasion at the back of the head that leads
+me to draw that conclusion.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see. Was Mrs. Bellamy wearing any jewellery when you
+saw her, Doctor—a necklace, rings, brooches?”</p>
+
+<p>“I saw no jewellery of any kind on the body.”</p>
+
+<p>“What type of knife should you say was used to commit
+this murder, Doctor?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that’s a little difficult to say. There were no marked
+peculiarities about the wound. It might have been caused by
+almost any knife with a sharp blade about three quarters of
+an inch wide and from three to four inches long—a sheath
+knife, a small kitchen knife, a large jackknife or clasp
+knife—various types, as I say.”</p>
+
+<p>“Could it have been made with this?”</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor dropped a small dark object into the doctor’s
+outstretched hand and stood aside so that the jury, galvanized
+to goggle-eyed attention, could see it better. It was a knife—a
+large jackknife, with a rough, corrugated bone handle.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert bore down on the scene at a subdued gallop.
+“Are you offering this knife in evidence?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am not.”</p>
+
+<p>Judge Carver leaned forward, his black silk robes rustling
+ominously. “What is this knife, Mr. Farr?”</p>
+
+<p>“This is a knife, Your Honour, that I propose to connect
+up with the case at a somewhat later stage. At present I ask
+to have it marked for identification merely for purposes of
+the record.”</p>
+
+<p>“You say that you will be able to connect it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Absolutely.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, you may answer the question, Dr. Stanley.”</p>
+
+<p>The doctor was inspecting it gravely, his eyes bright with
+interest.</p>
+
+<p>“I may open it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Please do.”</p>
+
+<p>In the breathless stillness the little click as the large blade
+sprang back was clearly audible. Dr. Stanley bent over it
+attentively, passed a forefinger reflectively along its shining
+surface, raised his head. “Yes, it could quite easily have been done
+with this.”</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor snapped the blade to with an enigmatic smile.
+“Thank you. That will be all.”</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Kathleen Page!”</p>
+
+<p>Before the ring of that high imperious summons had died
+in the air, she was there—a demure and dainty wraith, all in
+gray from the close feathered hat to the little buckled shoes. A
+pale oval face that might have belonged to the youngest and
+smallest of Botticelli’s Madonnas; cloudy eyes to match her
+frock, extravagantly fringed with heavy lashes; a forlorn,
+coaxing little mouth; sleek coils of dark hair. A murmur of interest
+rose, swelled, and died under Judge Carver’s eagle eye.</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Page, what is your present occupation?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am a librarian at a branch public library in New York.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is that your regular occupation?”</p>
+
+<p>“It has been for the past six months.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was it previous to that time?”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you mean immediately previous?”</p>
+
+<p>“At any time previous.”</p>
+
+<p>“I was assistant librarian in White Plains from 1921 to
+1925.”</p>
+
+<p>“And after that?”</p>
+
+<p>“During February of 1925 I had a serious attack of flu. It
+left me in rather bad shape, and the doctor recommended that
+I try to get some work in the country that would keep me
+outdoors a good deal and give me plenty of sleep.”</p>
+
+<p>“And did you decide on any occupation that would fit those
+requirements?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. Dr. Leonard suggested that I might try for a position
+as governess. One of his patients was looking for a temporary
+governess for her children, and he suggested that I might try
+that.”</p>
+
+<p>“And did you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were successful?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who was the patient suggested by Dr. Leonard?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Ives.”</p>
+
+<p>As though the name were a magnet, the faces in the
+courtroom swung in a brief half circle toward its owner. There she
+sat in her brief tweed skirt and loose jacket, the bright little felt
+hat pulled severely down over the shining wings of her hair, her
+hidden eyes riveted on her clasped hands in their fawn-coloured
+gauntlets. At the sound of her name she lifted her head, glanced
+briefly and levelly at the greedy, curious faces pressing toward
+her, less briefly and more levelly at the seraphic countenance
+under the drooping feather on the witness stand, and returned
+to the gloves. Only the curve of her lips remained for the
+benefit of those prying eyes—a lovely curve, ironic and inscrutable.
+The half circle swung back to the demure occupant of the
+witness box.</p>
+
+<p>“And how long were you in Mrs. Ives’s employment?”</p>
+
+<p>“Until June, 1926.”</p>
+
+<p>“What day of the month?”</p>
+
+<p>“The twenty-first.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then on the night of the nineteenth of June you were still
+in the employment of Mrs. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Will you be good enough to tell us just what you were doing
+at eight o’clock that evening?”</p>
+
+<p>“I had finished supper at a little before eight and was just
+settling down to read in the day nursery when I remembered
+that I had left my book down by the sand pile at the end of the
+garden, where I had been playing with the children before
+supper. So I went down to get it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Had you any way of fixing the time?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. I heard the dining room clock strike eight as I went by.
+I noticed it especially, as I thought, ‘That’s eight o’clock and
+it’s still broad daylight.’ ”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you see anyone on your way out of the house?”</p>
+
+<p>“I met Mr. Ives just outside the nursery door. He had come
+in late to dinner and hadn’t come up to say good-night to the
+children before. He asked if they had gone to bed. . . . Shall
+I go on?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly.”</p>
+
+<p>“I said that they were in bed but not asleep, and asked him
+please not to get them too excited. He had a boat for little
+Peter in his hand and I was afraid that he would get him in such
+a state that I wouldn’t be able to do anything with him at all.”</p>
+
+<p>“A boat? What kind of a boat?”</p>
+
+<p>“A little sailboat—a model of a schooner. Mr. Ives had been
+working on it for some time.”</p>
+
+<p>“Made it himself, had he?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. He was very clever at that kind of thing. He’d made
+Polly a wonderful doll house.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour——”</p>
+
+<p>“Try to confine yourself directly to the question, Miss Page.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, Your Honour.” The meek contrition of the
+velvet-voiced Miss Page was a model for all future witnesses.</p>
+
+<p>“Was Mr. Ives fond of the children?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, he adored——”</p>
+
+<p>“I object to that question, Your Honour.” The preliminary
+tossings had resolved themselves into an actual upheaval this
+time and all of the two hundred and fifty pounds of Mr.
+Lambert were on his feet.</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, Mr. Lambert, you may be heard. You object
+on what grounds?”</p>
+
+<p>“I object to this entire line of questioning as absolutely
+immaterial, incompetent and irrelevant. How is Miss Page
+qualified to judge as to Mr. Ives’s affection for his children? And
+even if her opinion had the slightest weight, what has his
+affection for his children got to do with the murder of this girl?
+For reasons which I don’t pretend to grasp, the learned counsel
+for the prosecution is simply wasting the time of this court.”</p>
+
+<p>“You might permit the Court to be the judge of that.”
+Judge Carver’s fine dark eyes rested somewhat critically on the
+protestant bulk before him. “Mr. Farr, you may be heard.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course, Your Honour, with all due deference to my
+brilliant opponent’s fireworks, he’s talking pure nonsense. Miss
+Page is perfectly——”</p>
+
+<p>Judge Carver’s gavel fell with a crash. “Mr. Farr, the Court
+must ask you once and for all to keep to the matter in hand.
+Can you connect your question with this case?”</p>
+
+<p>“Most certainly. It is the contention of the state that Mrs.
+Ives realized perfectly that if Mr. Ives decided that he wanted
+a divorce he would fight vigorously for at least partial custody
+of his children, whom, as Miss Page was about to tell us, he
+adored. Moreover, Mrs. Ives had strong religious objections to
+divorce. It was therefore essential to her to get rid of anyone
+who threatened her security if she wanted to keep the children.
+In order to prove this, it is necessary to establish Mr. Ives’s
+affection. And it ought to be perfectly obvious to anyone that
+Miss Page is in an excellent position to tell us what that
+affection was. I maintain that this question is absolutely relevant
+and material, and that Miss Page is perfectly competent to
+reply to it.”</p>
+
+<p>“The question may be answered.”</p>
+
+<p>“Exception.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Ives adored the children and they adored him. He was
+with them constantly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was Mrs. Ives fond of them?”</p>
+
+<p>“Objection on the same grounds, Your Honour.”</p>
+
+<p>“The question is allowed.”</p>
+
+<p>“Exception.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, she was devoted to them.”</p>
+
+<p>“As devoted to them as Mr. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“Now, Your Honour——”</p>
+
+<p>Judge Carver eyed the impassioned Lambert with temperate
+interest. “That seems a fairly broad question, Mr. Farr, calling
+for a conclusion.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, Your Honour, I’ll reframe it. Did she seem as
+fond of them as Mr. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, quite, I should think—though, of course, Mrs. Ives
+is not demonstrative.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see—not demonstrative. Cold and reserved, eh?”</p>
+
+<p>Judge Carver’s stern voice cut sharply across Miss Page’s
+pretty, distressed, appealing murmur: “Mr. Farr, the Court is
+anxious to give you as much latitude as possible, but we believe
+that you have gone quite far enough along this particular
+line.”</p>
+
+<p>“I defer entirely to Your Honour’s judgment. . . . Miss
+Page, was Mrs. Ives with Mr. Ives when you met him coming
+into the nursery with the boat in his hand?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, Mrs. Ives had already said good-night to the children
+before her dinner.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did Mr. Ives go into the nursery before you went
+downstairs?”</p>
+
+<p>“He went past me into the day nursery, and I have no doubt
+that he then went into the night nursery.”</p>
+
+<p>“Never mind that. I only want the facts that are in your
+actual knowledge. There were two nurseries, you say?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Will you be good enough to tell us how they were
+arranged?”</p>
+
+<p>“The day and night nurseries are in the right wing of the
+house, on the third floor.”</p>
+
+<p>“What other rooms are on that floor?”</p>
+
+<p>“My room, a bathroom, and a small sewing room.”</p>
+
+<p>“Please tell us what the arrangement would be as you enter
+the front door.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let me see—when you come in through the door you come
+into a very large hall that takes up almost all the central
+portion of the house. The central portion was an old farmhouse,
+and the wings, that contain all the rooms really, were added by
+Mrs. Ives. She knocked out the inside structure of the
+farmhouse and left it just a shell that she made into a big hall three
+stories high, with galleries around it on the second and third
+floors leading to the bedroom wings. There were two staircases
+at the back of the hall, leading to the right and left of the
+galleries. I’m afraid that I’m not being very clear, but it’s a little
+confusing.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are being quite clear. Tell us just how the rooms open
+out as you come through the door.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, to the right is a small cloakroom and the big living
+room. It’s very large—it forms the whole ground floor of the
+right wing in fact. Over it are Mr. and Mrs. Ives’s rooms.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did Mr. and Mrs. Ives occupy separate rooms?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no, there was a large bedroom, and on one side of it
+was Mrs. Ives’s dressing room and bath, and to the left Mr.
+Ives’s dressing room and bath. On the third floor were the
+nurseries and my room. On the left downstairs as you came in was
+a little flower room.”</p>
+
+<p>“A flower room?”</p>
+
+<p>“A room that was used for arranging flowers, you know.
+Mrs. Daniel Ives used it a great deal. It had shelves of vases
+and a sink and a big porcelain-topped table. The downstairs
+telephone was in there, too, and——”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour, may we ask where all this is leading?” Mr.
+Lambert’s tone was tremulous with impatience.</p>
+
+<p>“You may. The Court was about to make the same inquiry.
+Is this exhaustive questioning necessary, Mr. Farr?”</p>
+
+<p>“Absolutely necessary, Your Honour. I can assure Mr.
+Lambert that it is leading to a very interesting conclusion, however
+distasteful he may find both the path and the goal. I will be as
+brief as possible, I promise.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, you may continue, Miss Page.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Page raised limpid eyes in appealing deprecation. “I’m
+so frightfully sorry. I’ve absolutely forgotten where I was.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were telling us that there was a telephone in the flower
+room.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes—that is in the first room to the left as you come in.
+It’s really part of the hall.”</p>
+
+<p>“You mean that it has no door?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, no, it has a door. I simply meant that you came to it
+before you entered the left wing. It balances the cloakroom on
+the right-hand side. They’re rather like very large closets, you
+know, except that they both have windows.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do the windows open on to?”</p>
+
+<p>“The front porch. . . . Shall I go on with the rooms?”</p>
+
+<p>“Please, and as briefly as possible.”</p>
+
+<p>“The first room in the left wing is Mr. Ives’s study. It
+opens into the dining room. They form the ground floor of
+the left wing. Above them are Mrs. Daniel Ives’s room and
+bath and two guest rooms and another bath. Above these on
+the third floor are the servants’ quarters.”</p>
+
+<p>“How many servants were there?”</p>
+
+<p>“Let me see—there were six, I think, but only the four
+maids lived in the house.”</p>
+
+<p>“Please tell us who they were.”</p>
+
+<p>“There was the cook, Anna Baker; the waitress, Melanie
+Cordier; the chambermaid, Katie Brien; and Laura Roberts,
+Mrs. Ives’s personal maid and seamstress. They had four small
+rooms in the left wing, third floor. James and Robert
+MacDonald, the chauffeur and gardener, were brothers and lived
+in quarters over the garage. Oh, there was a laundress, too, but
+I don’t remember her name. She didn’t live in the house—only
+came in four days a week.”</p>
+
+<p>“You have described the entire household?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“And the entire layout of the house?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes—well, with the exception of the service quarters. You
+reached them through a door at the back of the big
+hall—kitchen, laundry, servants’ dining room and pantry, which
+opened also into the dining room. They ran across the back of
+the house. Do you want me to describe them further?”</p>
+
+<p>“Thanks, no. We can go on with your story now. Did you
+see anyone but Mr. Ives on your way to the sand pile?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not in the house. I passed Mrs. Daniel Ives on my way
+through the rose garden. She always used to work there after
+dinner until it got dark. She asked me as I went by if the
+children were asleep, and I told her that Mr. Ives was with them.”</p>
+
+<p>“What did you do then?”</p>
+
+<p>“I found the book in the swing by the sand pile and went
+back across the lawn to the house. As I was starting up the
+steps, I heard Mrs. Patrick Ives’s voice, speaking from the
+flower room at the left of the front door. She was speaking very
+softly, but the window on to the porch was open and I could
+hear her distinctly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was she speaking to someone in the room?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, she was telephoning. I think that I’ve already said that
+the downstairs ’phone is in that room. She was giving a
+telephone number—Rosemont 200.”</p>
+
+<p>“Were you familiar with that number?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, quite. I had called it up for Mrs. Ives several times.”</p>
+
+<p>“Whose number was it, Miss Page?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was Mr. Stephen Bellamy’s telephone number.”</p>
+
+<p>The courtroom pulsed to galvanized attention, its eyes
+whipping to Stephen Bellamy’s tired, dark face. It was lit with a
+strange, friendly, reassuring smile, directed straight at Susan
+Ives’s startled countenance. For a moment she stared back at
+him soberly, then slowly the colour came back into her parted
+lips, which curved gravely to mirror that voiceless greeting. For
+a long moment their eyes rested on each other before they
+returned to their accustomed guarded inscrutability. As clearly
+as though they were shouting across the straining faces, those
+lingering eyes called to each other, “Courage!”</p>
+
+<p>“You say that you could hear Mrs. Ives distinctly, Miss
+Page?”</p>
+
+<p>“Very distinctly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Will you tell us just what she said?”</p>
+
+<p>“She said”—Miss Page frowned a little in concentration
+and then went on steadily—“she said, ‘Is that you, Stephen? . . .
+It’s Sue—Sue Ives. Is Mimi there? . . . How long ago
+did she leave? . . . Are you sure she went there? . . . No,
+wait—this is vital. I have to see you at once. Can you get the
+car here in ten minutes? . . . No, not at the house. Stop at
+the far corner of the back road. I’ll come through the back gate
+to meet you. . . . Elliot didn’t say anything to you? . . . No,
+no, never mind that—just hurry.’ ”</p>
+
+<p>“Is that all that she said?”</p>
+
+<p>“She said good-bye.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing else?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing else.”</p>
+
+<p>“What did you do then?”</p>
+
+<p>“I turned back from the porch steps and circled the house
+to the right, going in by the side door and on up to the nursery.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why did you do that?”</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t want Mrs. Ives to know that I had overheard her
+conversation. I thought if by any chance she saw me coming
+in through the side door, it would not occur to her that I could
+have heard it from there.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see. When you got up to the nursery was Mr. Ives still
+there?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; he came out of the night nursery when he heard me
+and said that the children were quiet now.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did he say anything else to you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; he still had the boat in his hand, and he said there was
+something that he wanted to fix about the rudder, and that he’d
+bring it back in the morning.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you say anything to him?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Please tell us what you said.”</p>
+
+<p>“I told him that I had just overheard a telephone
+conversation that his wife was having with Mr. Bellamy, and that I
+thought he should know about it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you tell him about it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not at that moment. As I was about to do so, Mrs. Ives
+herself called up from the foot of the stairs to ask Mr. Ives
+if he still intended to go to the poker game at the Dallases. . . .
+Shall I go on?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Ives said yes, and Mrs. Ives said that in that case
+she would go to the movies with the Conroys, who had asked
+her before dinner. Mr. Ives asked her if he couldn’t drop her
+there, and she said no—that it was only a short walk and that
+she needed the exercise. She went straight out of the front door,
+I think. I heard it slam behind her.”</p>
+
+<p>“What did you do then?”</p>
+
+<p>“I said, ‘Your wife has gone to meet Stephen Bellamy.’ ”</p>
+
+<p>“And then what happened?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Ives said, ‘Don’t be a damned little fool.’ ”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Page smiled meekly and appreciatively at the audible
+ripple from the other side of the railing.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you say anything to that?”</p>
+
+<p>“I simply repeated the telephone conversation.”</p>
+
+<p>“Word for word?”</p>
+
+<p>“Word for word, and when I’d finished, he said, ‘My God,
+somebody’s told her.’ ”</p>
+
+<p>“I object. Your Honour, I ask that that be stricken from the
+record!” Lambert’s frenzied clamour filled the room. “What
+Mr. Ives said——”</p>
+
+<p>“It may be stricken out.”</p>
+
+<p>Judge Carver’s tone was the sternest of rebukes, but the
+unchastened prosecutor stood staring down at her demure face
+triumphant for a moment, and then, with a brief expressive
+gesture toward the defense, turned her abruptly over to their
+mercies. “That’s all. Cross-examine.”</p>
+
+<p>“No lunch to-day either?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I’ve got to get these notes off.”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl proudly exhibited an untidy pile of
+telegraph blanks and a much-bitten pencil. The gold pencil
+and the black leather notebook had been flung contemptuously
+out of the cab window on the way back to the boarding house
+the night before.</p>
+
+<p>“Me too. We’ll finish ’em up here and I’ll get ’em off for
+you. . . . Here’s your apple.”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl took it obediently, a fine glow invading
+her. How simply superb to be working there beside a real
+reporter; such a fire of comradeship and good will burned in her
+that it set twin fires flaming in her cheeks. The newspaper
+game! There was nothing like it, absolutely. Her pencil tore
+across the page in a fever of industry.</p>
+
+<p>It was almost fifty minutes before the reporter spoke again,
+and then it was only in reply to a question: “What—what did
+you think of her?”</p>
+
+<p>“Think of whom?”</p>
+
+<p>“Of Kathleen Page.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, you don’t happen to have a pat of the very best butter
+about you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Whatever for?”</p>
+
+<p>“To see if it would melt in her mouth.”</p>
+
+<p>“It wouldn’t,” said the red-headed girl; and added fiercely,
+“I hate her—nasty, hypocritical, unprincipled little toad!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, come, come! I hope that you won’t allow any of this
+to creep into those notes of yours.”</p>
+
+<p>“She probably killed Mimi Bellamy herself,” replied the
+newest member of the Fourth Estate darkly. “I wouldn’t put it past
+her for a moment. She——”</p>
+
+<p>“The Court!”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl flounced to her feet, the fires still
+burning in her cheeks, eyeing Miss Page’s graceful ascent to the
+witness box with a baleful eye. “I hope she’s headed straight
+for all the trouble there is,” she remarked between clenched
+teeth to the reporter.</p>
+
+<p>For the moment it looked as though her wish were about
+to be gratified.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert lumbered menacingly toward the witness box,
+his ruddy face grim and relentless. “You remember a great deal
+about that evening, don’t you, Miss Page?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have a very good memory.” Miss Page’s voice was the
+prettiest mixture of pride and humility.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you happen to remember the book that you were
+reading?”</p>
+
+<p>“Perfectly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Give us the title, please.”</p>
+
+<p>“The book was <i>Cytherea</i>, one of Hergesheimer’s old novels.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was it your own book?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, it came from Mr. Ives’s study.”</p>
+
+<p>“Had he loaned it to you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“Had Mrs. Ives loaned it to you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No one had loaned it to me; I had simply borrowed it from
+the study.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you were given the run of the books in Mr. Ives’s
+study? I see.” Miss Page sat silent, eyeing him steadily, only
+a slight stain of colour under the clear, pale skin betraying the
+fact that she had heard him. “Were you?” demanded Mr.
+Lambert savagely, leaning toward her.</p>
+
+<p>“Was I what?”</p>
+
+<p>“Were you given the run of Mr. Ives’s library?”</p>
+
+<p>“I had never stopped to formulate it in that way. I supposed
+that there could be no possible objection to taking an occasional
+book.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see. You regarded yourself as one of the family?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, hardly that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you take your meals with them?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“Spend the evenings with them?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Page’s fringed eyes were as luminous and steady as ever,
+but the stain in her cheeks had spread to her throat.</p>
+
+<p>“You resented that fact, didn’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor’s voice whipped out of the brief silence like
+a sword leaping from the scabbard: “I object to that question.
+To paraphrase my learned opponent, what possible relevance
+has Miss Page’s sense of resentment or contentment got to do
+with the murder of this girl?”</p>
+
+<p>“And to quote my witty adversary’s reply, Your Honour, it
+has everything to do with it. We propose definitely to attack
+Miss Page’s credibility. We believe we can show that she
+detested Mrs. Ives and would not hesitate to do her a disservice.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh,” said the prosecutor, with much deliberation, “that’s
+what you propose to show, is it?”</p>
+
+<p>Even the clatter of the judge’s gavel did not cause him to
+turn his head an inch. He continued to gaze imperturbably at
+the occupant in the box, who, demure and pensive, returned
+it unswervingly. In the brief moment occupied by the
+prosecutor’s skilful intervention the flush had faded entirely. Miss
+Page looked as cool and tranquil as a little spring in the
+forest.</p>
+
+<p>“You may answer the question, Miss Page,” said the judge
+a trifle sternly.</p>
+
+<p>“May I have the question repeated?”</p>
+
+<p>“I asked whether you didn’t resent the fact that you were
+treated as a servant rather than as a member of the household.”</p>
+
+<p>“It never entered my head that I was being treated as a
+servant,” said Miss Page gently.</p>
+
+<p>“It never entered your head?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not for a moment.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were perfectly satisfied with your situation in every
+way?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, perfectly.”</p>
+
+<p>“No cause for complaint whatever?”</p>
+
+<p>“None whatever.”</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Page, is this your writing? Don’t trouble to read
+it—simply tell me whether it is your writing.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Page bent docilely over the square of pale blue paper.
+“It looks like my writing.”</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t ask you whether it looked like it—I asked you if it
+was your writing.”</p>
+
+<p>“I really couldn’t tell you that. Handwriting can be
+perfectly imitated, can’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you cross-examining me or am I cross-examining you?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Page permitted herself a small, fugitive smile. “I
+believe that you are supposed to be cross-examining me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then be good enough to answer my question. To the best
+of your belief, is this your writing?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is either my writing or a very good imitation of it.”</p>
+
+<p>The outraged Mr. Lambert snatched the innocuous bit of
+paper from under his composed victim’s nose and proffered
+it to the clerk of the court as though it were something unclean.
+“I offer this letter in evidence.”</p>
+
+<p>“Just one moment,” said the prosecutor gently. “I don’t
+want to waste the Court’s time with a lot of useless objections,
+but it seems to me that this letter has not yet been identified by
+Miss Page, and as you are evidently unwilling to let her read
+it, for some occult reason that I don’t presume to understand,
+I must object to its being offered in evidence.”</p>
+
+<p>“What does this letter purport to be, Mr. Lambert?”
+inquired the judge amiably.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert turned his flaming countenance on the Court.
+“It purports to be exactly what it is, Your Honour—a letter
+from Miss Page to her former employer, Mrs. Ives. And I am
+simply amazed at this hocus-pocus about her not being able to
+identify her own writing being tolerated for a minute. I——”</p>
+
+<p>“Kindly permit the Court to decide what will be tolerated in
+the conduct of this case,” remarked the judge, in a voice from
+which all traces of amiability had been swept as by a cold wind.
+“What is the date of the purported letter?”</p>
+
+<p>“May 7, 1925.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you write Mrs. Ives a letter on that date, Miss Page?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s quite a time ago, Your Honour. I certainly shouldn’t
+like to make any such statement under oath.”</p>
+
+<p>“Would it refresh your memory if you were to look over
+the letter?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, certainly.”</p>
+
+<p>“I think that you had better let Miss Page look over the
+letter if you wish to offer it in evidence, Mr. Lambert.”</p>
+
+<p>Once more Mr. Lambert menacingly tendered the blue
+square, which Miss Page considered in a leisurely and composed
+manner in no way calculated to tranquillize the storm of
+indignation that was rocking him. Her perusal completed, she lifted
+a gracious countenance to the inflamed one before her. “Oh,
+yes, that is my letter.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert snatched it ungratefully. “I again offer this
+in evidence.”</p>
+
+<p>“No objection,” said the prosecutor blandly.</p>
+
+<p>“Now that you have fortified yourself with its contents, Miss
+Page, I will ask you to reconcile some of the statements that it
+contains with some later statements of yours made here under
+oath this afternoon:</p>
+
+<blockquote class="letter">
+
+<p class="salutation">“My dear Mrs. Ives:</p>
+
+<p>“I would like to call your attention to the fact that for the past
+three nights the food served me has evidently been that discarded by
+your servants as unfit for consumption. As you do not care to discuss
+these matters with me personally, I am forced to resort to this means
+of communication, and I ask you to believe that it is literally
+impossible to eat the type of meal that has been put before me lately.
+Boiled mutton which closely resembled boiled dishrags, stewed turnips,
+and a kind of white jelly that I was later informed was intended to
+be rice, and a savoury concoction of dried apricots, and sour milk
+was the menu for yesterday evening. You have made it abundantly
+clear to me that you regard me as a species of overpaid servant, but I
+confess that I had not gathered that slow starvation was to be one
+of my duties.</p>
+
+<p class="valediction">“Sincerely,</p>
+<p class="signature">“Kathleen Page.”</p>
+
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>“Kindly reconcile your statement that it had never entered
+your head that you were being treated as a servant with this
+sentence: ‘You have made it abundantly clear that you regard
+me as a species of overpaid servant.’ ”</p>
+
+<p>“That was a silly overwrought letter written by me when I
+was still suffering from the effects of a nervous and physical
+collapse. I had completely forgotten ever having written it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you had, had you? Completely forgotten it, eh? Never
+thought of it from that day to this? Well, just give us the
+benefit of that wonderful memory of yours once more and tell us
+the effect of this letter on your relations with Mrs. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“It had a very fortunate effect,” said Miss Page, with her
+prettiest smile. “Mrs. Ives very kindly rectified the situation
+that I was indiscreet enough to complain of, and the whole
+matter was cleared up and adjusted most happily.”</p>
+
+<p>“What?” The astounded monosyllable cracked through the
+courtroom like a rifle shot.</p>
+
+<p>“I said that it was all adjusted most happily,” replied Miss
+Page sunnily and helpfully, raising her voice slightly.</p>
+
+<p>Actual stupor had apparently descended on her interrogator.</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Page, you make it difficult for me to credit my ears. Is
+it not the fact that Mrs. Ives sent for you at once on receipt
+of that note, offered you a month’s wages in lieu of notice, and
+requested you to leave the following day?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing could be farther from the fact.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert’s voice seemed about to forsake him at the calm
+finality of this reply. He opened his mouth twice with no
+audible results, but at the third effort something closely resembling
+a roar emerged: “Are you telling me that you did not go on
+your knees to Mrs. Ives in floods of tears and tell her that it
+would be signing your death warrant to turn you out then, and
+implore her to give you another chance?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am telling you,” said Miss Page equably, “that nothing
+remotely resembling that occurred. Mrs. Ives was extremely
+regretful and considerate, and there was not a word as to my
+leaving.”</p>
+
+<p>Apoplexy hovered tentatively over Mr. Lambert’s bulky
+shoulder. “Do you deny that two days before this murder your
+insolence had once more precipitated a scene that had resulted
+in your dismissal, and that you were intending to leave on the
+following Monday?”</p>
+
+<p>“Most certainly I deny it.”</p>
+
+<p>“A scene that arose from the fact that during Mrs. Ives’s
+absence in town you ordered the car to take you and a friend
+of yours from White Plains for a three-hour drive in the
+country, and that when Mrs. Ives telephoned from town to have
+the car meet her, as she was returning that afternoon instead of
+the next day, she was informed that you were out in it and she
+was obliged to take a taxi?”</p>
+
+<p>“That is not true either.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is not true that you went for a drive with a young man
+that afternoon?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, that is quite true; but I had Mrs. Ives’s permission to
+do so before she left.”</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Mr. Lambert turned his crimson countenance
+toward Susan Ives. She had lifted her head and was staring,
+steadily and contemptuously, at her erstwhile nursery
+governess, whose limpid eyes moved only from Mr. Lambert to Mr.
+Farr and back. Even the contempt could not extinguish a
+frankly diverted twist to her lips at the pat audacity of the
+gentle replies. Evidently Mr. Lambert could find no comfort
+there. He turned back to his witness.</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Page, do you know what perjury is?”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour——”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Page’s lightning promptitude cut through the
+prosecutor’s voice: “It’s a demonstrably false statement made under
+oath, isn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Just wait a minute, please, Miss Page. Your Honour, I
+respectfully submit that this entire line of cross-examination by
+Mr. Lambert is extremely objectionable. I have let it go this far
+because I don’t want to prolong this trial with a lot of
+unnecessary bickering; but, as far as I can see, he has simply been
+entertaining the jury with a series of exciting little episodes that
+there is not a shred of reason to believe are not the offspring of
+his own fertile imagination. According to Miss Page, they are
+just exactly that. They are, however, skilfully calculated to
+prejudice her in the eyes of the jury, and when Mr. Lambert
+goes so far as to imply in no uncertain manner that Miss Page’s
+denial of these fantasies is perjury, I can no longer——”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour, do you consider this oration for the benefit
+of the jury proper?” Mr. Lambert’s voice was unsteady with
+rage.</p>
+
+<p>“I do not, sir. Nor do I consider it the only impropriety that
+has occurred. I see no legitimate place in cross-examination for
+a request for a definition of perjury. However, you have received
+your reply. You may proceed with your cross-examination.”</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Page, when you realized that Mrs. Ives was talking
+to someone on the telephone, why did you not go on into the
+house?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because I was interested in what she was saying.”</p>
+
+<p>“So you eavesdropped, eh?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“A very pretty, honourable, decent thing to do in your
+opinion?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh,” said Miss Page, with her most disarming smile, “I
+don’t pretend not to be human.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that’s very reassuring. Can you tell us why Mrs. Ives
+didn’t hear you outside on the porch, Miss Page?”</p>
+
+<p>“I wasn’t on the porch. I had just started to come up the
+steps when I stopped to listen. I had on tennis shoes, which
+wouldn’t make any noise at all on the lawn.”</p>
+
+<p>“You say that you could hear Mrs. Ives distinctly?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, quite.”</p>
+
+<p>“So that anybody else could have heard her distinctly too?”</p>
+
+<p>“Anyone who was standing in that place could have—yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“She was making a secret rendezvous and yet was speaking
+in a tone sufficiently audible for any passer-by to hear?”</p>
+
+<p>“She probably thought that there would be no passer-by.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour, I ask to have that stricken from the record
+as deliberately unresponsive.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were not asked as to Mrs. Ives’s thoughts, Miss Page.
+Mr. Lambert asked you whether any passer-by could not have
+heard Mrs. Ives’s conversation.”</p>
+
+<p>“Anyone who passed over the route that I did could have
+heard it perfectly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Patrick Ives could have heard it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Patrick Ives was upstairs.”</p>
+
+<p>“That was not my question. I asked you if Patrick Ives
+could not have heard it quite as readily as you?”</p>
+
+<p>“He could, if he had been there.”</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Page, will you be good enough to repeat that
+conversation for us once again?”</p>
+
+<p>“The whole thing?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Ives said”—again the little frown of concentration—“she
+said, ‘Is that you Stephen? . . . It’s Sue—Sue Ives. Is
+Mimi there? . . . How long ago did she leave? . . . Are you
+sure she went there? . . . No, wait—this is vital—I have to
+see you at once. Can you get the car here in ten minutes? . . .
+No, not at the house. Stop at the far corner of the back road.
+I’ll come through the back gate to meet you. . . . Elliot hasn’t
+said anything to you? . . . No, no, never mind that—just
+hurry. . . . Good-bye.’ ”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert beamed at her—a ferocious and colossal beam.
+“Now, that’s very nice—very nice, indeed, Miss Page. Every
+word pat, eh? Almost as though you’d learned it by heart,
+shouldn’t you say?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s probably because I did learn it by heart,” proffered
+Miss Page helpfully.</p>
+
+<p>The beam forsook Mr. Lambert’s countenance, leaving the
+ferocity. “Oh, you learned it by heart, did you? Between the
+front steps and the side door, I suppose?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not exactly. I wrote it down before I went in the side
+door.”</p>
+
+<p>“You did what?”</p>
+
+<p>“I wrote it down while Mrs. Ives was talking, most of it.
+The last sentence or so I did just before I came in.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert took a convulsive grip on his sagging jaw.
+“Oh, indeed! Brought back a portable typewriter and a fountain
+pen and a box of notepaper from the sand pile, too, I suppose?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Page smiled patiently and politely.</p>
+
+<p>“No; but I had some crayons of the children’s in my sweater
+pocket.”</p>
+
+<p>“And half a dozen pads, too, no doubt?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I wrote it on the flyleaf of the book—<i>Cytherea</i>, you
+know.”</p>
+
+<p>“For what purpose did you write this down?” The voice
+of Mr. Lambert was the voice of one who has run hard and
+long toward a receding goal.</p>
+
+<p>“It sounded important to me; I didn’t want to make any
+mistakes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Quite so. So your story is that you took this information,
+which you admit you acquired by eavesdropping on the woman
+you claim had been invariably kind and generous to you, straight
+to her husband, in the fond expectation of ruining both their
+lives?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no, indeed—in the expectation of saving them. Mr.
+Ives had been even kinder to me than Mrs. Ives; I was
+desperately anxious to help them both.”</p>
+
+<p>“And this was your idea of helping them?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was probably a stupid way,” said Miss Page humbly.
+“But it was the only one that I could think of. I was afraid
+they were planning to elope, and I thought that Mr. Ives might
+be able to stop them. You see, I hadn’t realized then the real
+significance of the telephone conversation.”</p>
+
+<p>“What real significance, if you please?”</p>
+
+<p>“The fact that someone must have told Mrs. Ives all about
+Mr. Ives’s affair with Mrs. Bellamy before she went out that
+night,” said Miss Page softly.</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour,” said the flagging voice— “Your Honour,
+I ask that that reply be stricken from the record as
+unresponsive.”</p>
+
+<p>“The Court does not regard it as unresponsive. You requested
+Miss Page to give her final interpretation of the telephone
+conversation and she has given it.”</p>
+
+<p>“May I have an exception, Your Honour?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then the story that you expect this jury to believe, Miss
+Page, is that nothing but affectionate zeal prompted you to spy
+on this benefactress of yours and to bear the glad tidings of her
+infidelity to her unsuspecting husband—tidings acquired through
+a reputed conversation of which you were the sole witness and
+the self-constituted recorder?”</p>
+
+<p>“I hope that they will believe me,” said Miss Page meekly.
+For one brief moment her ingenuous eyes rested appealingly
+on the twelve stolid and inscrutable countenances.</p>
+
+<p>“And I hope that you are unduly optimistic,” said Mr.
+Lambert heavily. “That is all, Miss Page.”</p>
+
+<p>“Just one moment,” said the prosecutor easily. “Miss Page,
+when Mr. Lambert asked you whether anyone couldn’t have
+overheard that conversation, he prevented you from explaining
+why no one was likely to. Let’s first get that straight. Where
+was Mrs. Daniel Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“In the rose garden.”</p>
+
+<p>“That was where she usually went after dinner, wasn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Always, I think. She used to work out there for an hour
+or so until it got dark, because that was the coolest part of the
+day.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was the rose garden visible from the study?”</p>
+
+<p>“Quite clearly. A window overlooked the little paved terrace
+that led down into the rose garden.”</p>
+
+<p>“So that it would have been simple for Mrs. Ives to verify
+whether Mrs. Daniel Ives was in the garden?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, quite.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where were the servants apt to be at that time?”</p>
+
+<p>“They would be having their dinner in the back part of the
+house—they dined after the family.”</p>
+
+<p>“What about Mr. Patrick Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Ives knew that he had gone upstairs. He told me that
+she had been helping him to fasten the little pennant on in the
+study just before he came up.”</p>
+
+<p>“And she thought that you were upstairs, too, didn’t she?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes; I was not in the habit of coming down after
+dinner. I had my meals in the nursery.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did Mr. Ives use the study much—to write or to work in,
+I mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know how much he worked in it; he had quite a
+collection of technical volumes in it, but I don’t believe that he
+did much writing, though. He had a very large, flat-topped desk
+that he used as a kind of work bench.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where he made the boats and dollhouses?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Kept his tools and materials?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was that desk visible from the door?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; it was directly opposite the door into the hall.”</p>
+
+<p>“Would a person going from the flower room to the foot of
+the nursery stairs pass it?”</p>
+
+<p>“They could not very well avoid doing so.”</p>
+
+<p>“Would the contents of the top of the desk be visible from
+the doorway?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, surely. The study is not a large room.”</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor made two strides toward the witness box.
+Something small and dark and bright glinted for a moment
+in his hand. “Miss Page, have you ever seen this knife before?”</p>
+
+<p>Very delicately Miss Page lifted it in her slender fingers,
+eyeing it gravely and fastidiously. “Yes,” she said quietly.</p>
+
+<p>A little wind seemed to blow suddenly through the
+courtroom—a little, cold, ominous wind.</p>
+
+<p>“Where?”</p>
+
+<p>“On the desk in Mr. Patrick Ives’s study on the afternoon
+of the nineteenth of June, 1926.”</p>
+
+<p>In a voice almost as gentle as her own, the prosecutor said,
+“That will be all, Miss Page. You may go.”</p>
+
+<p>And as lightly, as softly as she had come, Miss Page slipped
+from the witness box and was gone.</p>
+
+<p>The second day of the Bellamy trial was over.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch03">
+
+<h2>Chapter III</h2>
+
+<p>“Oh, I knew I would be—I knew it!” moaned the
+red-headed girl crawling abjectly over three
+irritated and unhelpful members of the Fourth Estate,
+dropping her pencil, dropping her notebook, dropping a pair
+of gray gloves and a squirrel scarf, and lifting a stricken face
+to the menacing countenance of Ben Potts, king of court
+criers. “I’ve been late for every single thing that’s happened
+since I got to this wretched town. It’s like Alice in
+Wonderland—you have to run like mad to keep in the same place. Who’s
+talking? What’s happened?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, you seem to be doing most of the talking,” replied
+the real reporter unkindly. “And about all that’s happened
+has been fifteen minutes of as hot legal brimstone and sulphur
+as you’d want to hear in a thousand years, emitted by the
+Mephistophelean Farr, who thinks it would be nice to have
+a jackknife in evidence, and the inflammable Lambert, who
+thinks it would be horrid. Mr. Lambert was mistaken, the
+knife is in, and they’re just opening a few windows to clear the
+air. Outside of that, everything’s lovely. Not a soul’s confessed,
+the day is young, and Mr. Douglas Thorne is just taking the
+stand. Carry on!”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl watched the lean, bronzed
+gentleman with sandy hair and a look of effortless distinction with
+approval. Nice eyes, nice hands.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Thorne, what is your occupation?”</p>
+
+<p>Nice voice: “I am a member of the New York Stock
+Exchange.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you a relative of the defendant, Susan Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“Her elder brother, I’m proud to say.”</p>
+
+<p>His pleasant eyes smiled down at the slight figure in the
+familiar tweed suit, and for the first since she had come to
+court Sue Ives smiled back freely and spontaneously— a
+friendly, joyous smile, brilliant as a banner.</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor lifted a warning hand. “Please stick to the
+issue, Mr. Thorne, and we’ll take your affection for your
+sister for granted. Are you the proprietor of the old Thorne
+estate, Orchards?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“The sole proprietor?”</p>
+
+<p>“The sole proprietor.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why did your sister not share in that estate, Mr. Thorne?”</p>
+
+<p>“My father no longer regarded my sister as his heir after
+she married Patrick Ives. He took a violent dislike to Mr. Ives
+from the first, and it was distinctly against his wishes that Sue
+married him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you share this dislike?”</p>
+
+<p>“For Patrick? Oh, no. At the time I hardly knew him, and
+later I became extremely fond of him.”</p>
+
+<p>“You still are?”</p>
+
+<p>The pleasant gray eyes, suddenly grave, looked back
+unswervingly into the hot blue fire of the prosecutor’s. “That
+is a difficult question to answer categorically. Perhaps the
+most accurate reply that I can give is that at present I am
+reserving an opinion on my brother-in-law and his conduct.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s hardly a satisfactory reply, Mr. Thorne.”</p>
+
+<p>“I regret it; it is an honest one.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, let’s put it this way: You are devoted to your sister,
+aren’t you, Mr. Thorne?”</p>
+
+<p>“Very deeply devoted.”</p>
+
+<p>“You admit that her happiness is dear to you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t particularly care for the word ‘admit’; I state
+willingly that her happiness is very dear to me.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you would do anything to secure it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I would do a great deal.”</p>
+
+<p>“Anything?”</p>
+
+<p>Douglas Thorne leaned forward over the witness box, his
+face suddenly stern. “If by ‘anything,’ Mr. Farr, you mean
+would I commit murder, my reply is no.”</p>
+
+<p>Judge Carver’s gavel fell with a crash. “That is an
+entirely uncalled for conclusion, Mr. Thorne. It may be stricken
+from the record.”</p>
+
+<p>“Kindly reply to my question, Mr. Thorne. Would you not
+do anything in order to secure your sister’s happiness?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>Once more Sue Ives’s smile flew like a banner.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Thorne, did your sister ever speak to you about her
+first two or three years in New York?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have a vague general impression that we discussed
+certain aspects of it, such as living conditions there at the time,
+and——”</p>
+
+<p>“Vague general impressions aren’t what we want. You have
+no specific knowledge of where they were or what they were
+doing at the time?”</p>
+
+<p>“I can recall nothing at the moment.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your sister, to whom you are so devoted, never once
+communicated with you during that time?”</p>
+
+<p>“I received a letter from her about a week after she left
+Rosemont, stating that she thought that for the time being it
+would be better to sever all connections with Rosemont, but
+that her affection for all of us was unchanged.”</p>
+
+<p>“I haven’t asked you for the contents of the letter. Is that
+the only communication that you received from her during those
+years in New York?”</p>
+
+<p>“With the exception of Christmas cards, I heard nothing
+more for a little over two years. Then she began to write
+fairly regularly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Thorne, were you on the estate of Orchards at any
+time on June 19, 1926?”</p>
+
+<p>“I was.”</p>
+
+<p>There was a sudden stir and ripple throughout the court
+room. “Now!” said the ripple. “Now! At last!”</p>
+
+<p>“At what time?”</p>
+
+<p>“I couldn’t state the exact time at which I arrived, but I
+believe that it must have been shortly after nine in the
+evening.”</p>
+
+<p>The ripples broke into little waves. Nine o’clock—nine——</p>
+
+<p>“And at what time did you leave?”</p>
+
+<p>“That I can tell you exactly. I left the main house at
+Orchards at exactly ten minutes to ten.”</p>
+
+<p>The ripples broke into little waves. Ten o’clock—ten——</p>
+
+<p>“Silence!” banged Judge Carver’s gavel.</p>
+
+<p>“Silence!” sang Ben Potts.</p>
+
+<p>“Please tell us what you were doing at Orchards during that
+hour.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was considerably less than an hour. Mr. Conroy had
+telephoned me shortly before dinner, asking me to leave the
+keys at the cottage, which I gladly agreed to do, as I had been
+intending for some time to get some old account books I had
+left in my desk at the main house. I didn’t notice the exact time
+at which I left Lakedale, but it must have been about
+half-past eight, as we dine at half-past seven, and I smoked a cigar
+before I started. I drove over at a fair rate of speed—around
+thirty-five miles an hour, say—and went straight to the main
+house.”</p>
+
+<p>“You did not stop at the gardener’s cottage?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; I——”</p>
+
+<p>“Yet you pass it on your way from the lodge to the house,
+don’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, coming from Lakedale I use the River Road; the first
+entrance off the road leads straight from the back of the place
+to the main house; the lodge gates are at the opposite end of the
+place on the main road from Rosemont. Shall I go on?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was just beginning to get dark when I arrived, and the
+electricity was shut off, so I didn’t linger in the house—just
+procured the papers and cleared out. When I got back to the
+car, I decided to leave it there and walk over to the cottage
+and back. It was only a ten-minute walk each way, and it was a
+fine evening. I started off——”</p>
+
+<p>“You say that it was dark at the time?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was fairly dark when I started, and quite dark as I
+approached the cottage.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was there a moon?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t think so; I remember noticing the stars on the way
+home, but I am quite sure that there was no moon at that
+time.”</p>
+
+<p>“You met no one on your way to the cottage?”</p>
+
+<p>“No one at all.”</p>
+
+<p>“You saw nothing to attract your attention?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“And heard nothing?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said Douglas Thorne, as quietly and unemphatically
+as he had said no.</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor took a quick step forward. “You say you
+heard something? What did you hear?”</p>
+
+<p>“I heard a woman scream.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing else?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, a second or so afterward I heard a man laugh.”</p>
+
+<p>“A man laugh?” the prosecutor’s voice was rough with
+incredulity. “What kind of a laugh?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know how to characterize it,” said Mr. Thorne
+simply. “It was an ordinary enough laugh, in a rather deep
+masculine voice. It didn’t strike me as in any way
+extraordinary.”</p>
+
+<p>“It didn’t strike you as extraordinary to hear a woman
+scream and a man laugh in a deserted place at that hour of the
+night?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, frankly, it didn’t. My first reaction was that the
+caretaker and his wife had returned from their vacation earlier than
+we had expected them; or if not, that possibly some of the
+young people from the village were indulging in some romantic
+trespassing—that’s not unknown, I may state.”</p>
+
+<p>“You heard no words? No voices?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no; I was about three hundred feet from the cottage
+at the time that I heard the scream.”</p>
+
+<p>“You did not consider that that sound was the voice of a
+woman raised in mortal terror?”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” said Douglas Thorne. “Naturally, if I had, I should
+have done something to investigate. I was somewhat startled
+when I first heard it, but the laugh following so promptly
+completely reassured me. A scream of terror, a scream of pain, a
+scream of surprise, a scream of more or less perfunctory
+protest—I doubt whether anyone could distinguish between them
+at three hundred feet. I certainly couldn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor shook his head irritably; he seemed hardly to
+be listening to this lucid exposition. “You’re quite sure about
+the laugh—you heard it distinctly?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, perfectly distinctly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Could you see the cottage from where you stood at the
+time?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; the bend in the road and the high shrubbery hide it
+completely until you are almost on top of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you don’t know whether it was lighted when you
+heard the scream?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; I only know that it was dark when I reached it a
+moment or so later.”</p>
+
+<p>“What did you do when you reached the cottage?”</p>
+
+<p>“I noticed that it was dark as I ran up the steps, but on
+the off chance that it might have been the gardener that I had
+heard, I rang the bell half mechanically and tried the door, as
+I wanted to explain to him about Mr. Conroy’s visit in the
+morning. The door was locked.”</p>
+
+<p>“You had the key on the ring, hadn’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; but I had no reason in the world for going in if the
+gardener wasn’t there.”</p>
+
+<p>“You heard no sound from within?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a sound.”</p>
+
+<p>“And nothing from without?”</p>
+
+<p>“Everything was perfectly quiet.”</p>
+
+<p>“No one could have passed you at any time?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, certainly not.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Thorne, would it have been possible for anyone in the
+cottage to have heard you approaching?”</p>
+
+<p>“I think that it might have been possible. The night was
+very still, and the main drive down which I was walking is of
+crushed gravel. The little drive off it that circles the house is
+of dirt; I don’t know how clear footsteps would be on that, but
+of course anyone would have heard me going up the steps. I
+have a vague impression, too, that I was whistling.”</p>
+
+<p>“Could anyone have been concealed in the shrubbery about
+the house?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, quite easily. The shrubbery is very high all about it.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you noticed no one?”</p>
+
+<p>“No one.”</p>
+
+<p>“What did you do after you had decided that the house was
+empty?”</p>
+
+<p>“I put the keys under the mat, as had been agreed, and
+returned to the main house. As I got into my roadster, I looked
+at my wrist watch by one of the headlights. It was exactly ten
+minutes to ten.”</p>
+
+<p>“What caused you to consult your watch?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’d had a vague notion that I might run over to see my
+sister for a few minutes, as I was in the neighbourhood, but
+when I discovered that it was nearly ten, I changed my mind
+and went straight back to Lakedale.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Thorne, you must have been perfectly aware when the
+news of the murder came out the next morning that you had
+information in your possession that would have been of great
+value to the state. Why did you not communicate it at once?”</p>
+
+<p>Douglas Thorne met the prosecutor’s gaze steadily, with a
+countenance free of either defiance or concern. “Because,
+frankly, I had no desire whatever to be involved, however
+remotely, in a murder case. I was still debating my duty in the
+matter two days later, when my sister and Mr. Bellamy were
+arrested, and the papers announced that the state had positive
+information that the murder was committed between quarter
+to nine and quarter to ten on the night of the nineteenth. That
+seemed to render my meagre observations quite valueless, and I
+accordingly kept them to myself.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I suppose you fully realize now that you have put
+yourself in a highly equivocal position by doing so?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, no, Mr. Farr; I may be unduly obtuse, but I assure
+you that I realize nothing of the kind.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let me endeavour to enlighten you. According to your own
+story, you must have heard that scream between nine-thirty
+and twenty-five minutes to ten, granting that you spent three
+or four minutes on the cottage porch and took ten minutes to
+walk back to the house. According to you, you arrived at the
+scene of action within three minutes of that scream, to find
+everything dark, silent and orderly. It is the state’s contention
+that somewhere in that orderly darkness, practically within
+reach of your outstretched hand, stood your idolized sister.
+Quite a coincidence, isn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is quite a coincidence that that should be your
+contention,” remarked Douglas Thorne, a dangerous glint in his eye.
+“But I know of no scandal attached to coincidence.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, this particular type of coincidence has landed more
+than one man in jail as accessory after the fact,” remarked the
+prosecutor grimly. “What time did you get back to Lakedale
+that night?”</p>
+
+<p>“At ten-thirty.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did anyone see you?”</p>
+
+<p>“My wife was on the porch when I arrived.”</p>
+
+<p>“Anyone else?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s all, Mr. Thorne. Cross-examine.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert approached the witness box at almost a prance,
+his broad countenance smouldering with ill-concealed
+excitement. “Mr. Thorne, I’ll trouble you with only two questions.
+My distinguished adversary has asked you whether you noticed
+anything unusual in the neighbourhood of the cottage. I ask
+you whether in that vicinity you saw at any time a car—an
+automobile?”</p>
+
+<p>“I saw no sign of a car.”</p>
+
+<p>“No sign of a small Chevrolet, for instance—of Mr.
+Bellamy’s, for instance?”</p>
+
+<p>“No sign of any car at all.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, Mr. Thorne. That will be all.”</p>
+
+<p>Over Mr. Lambert’s exultant carol rose a soft tumult of
+whispers. “There goes the state’s story!” “Score 100 for the
+defense!” “Oh, boy, did you get that? He’s fixed the time of
+the murder and run Sue and Steve off the scene all in one
+move.” “The hand is quicker than the eye.” “Look at Farr’s
+face; that boy’s got a mean eye——”</p>
+
+<p>“Silence!” sang Ben Potts.</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor advanced to within six inches of the witness
+box, his eyes contracted to pin points. “You assure us that you
+saw no car, Mr. Thorne?”</p>
+
+<p>“I do.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you are not able to assure us that no car was there?”</p>
+
+<p>“Obviously, if a car was there, I should have seen it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no, believe me, that’s far from obvious! If a car had
+been parked to the rear of the cottage on the little circular
+road, would you have seen it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I should have seen its lights.”</p>
+
+<p>“And if its lights had been turned out?”</p>
+
+<p>“Then,” said Douglas Thorne slowly, “I should probably
+not have seen it.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were not in the rear of the cottage at any time, were
+you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then it is certain that you would not have seen it, isn’t
+it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have told you that under those circumstances I do not
+believe I should have seen it.”</p>
+
+<p>“If a car had been parked on the main driveway between
+the lodge gates and the cottage, with its lights out, you would
+not have seen that either, would you, Mr. Thorne?”</p>
+
+<p>“Possibly not.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you don’t for a moment expect to have twelve
+level-headed, intelligent men believe that a pair of murderers would
+park their car in a clearly visible position, with all its lights
+burning for any passer-by to remark, while they accomplished
+their purpose?”</p>
+
+<p>“I object to that question!” panted Mr. Lambert. “I object!
+It calls for a conclusion, Your Honour, and is highly——”</p>
+
+<p>“The question is overruled.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, Mr. Thorne; that will be all.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert, who had been following these proceedings
+with a woebegone countenance from which the recent traces of
+elation had been washed as though by a bucket of unusually
+cold water, pulled himself together valiantly. “Just one
+moment, Mr. Thorne; the fact is that you didn’t see a car there,
+isn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“That is most certainly the fact.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you; that will be all.”</p>
+
+<p>“And the fact is,” remarked the grimly smiling prosecutor,
+“that it might perfectly well have been there without your
+seeing it, isn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, that also is the fact.”</p>
+
+<p>“That will be all. Call Miss Flora Biggs.”</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor’s grim little smile still lingered.</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Flora Biggs!”</p>
+
+<p>Flora Biggs might have been a pretty girl ten years ago,
+before that fatal heaviness had crept from sleazy silk ankles to
+the round chin above the imitation pearls. Everything about
+Miss Biggs was imitation—an imitation fluff of something that
+was meant to be fur on the plush coat that was meant to be
+another kind of fur; an imitation rose of a washed-out magenta
+trying to hide itself in the masquerading collar; pearls the size
+of large bone buttons peeping out from too golden hair; an
+arrow of false diamonds catching the folds of the purple velvet
+toque that was not quite velvet; nervous fingers in suède gloves
+that were rather a bad grade of cotton clutching at a snakeskin
+bag of stenciled cloth—a poor, cheap, shoddy imitation of what
+the well-dressed woman will wear. And yet in those small
+insignificant features that should have belonged to a pretty girl,
+in those round china-blue eyes, staring forlornly out of
+reddened rims, there was something candid and touching and
+appealing. For out of those reddened eyes peered the good shy
+little girl in the starched white dress brought down to
+entertain the company—the good, shy little girl whose name had
+been Florrie Biggs. And little Florrie Biggs had been crying.</p>
+
+<p>“Where do you live, Miss Biggs?”</p>
+
+<p>“At 21 Maple Street, Rosemont.” The voice was hardly
+more than a whisper.</p>
+
+<p>“Just a trifle louder, please; we all want to hear you. Did
+you know Madeleine Bellamy, Miss Biggs?”</p>
+
+<p>The tears that had been lurking behind the round blue eyes
+welled over abruptly, leaving little paths behind them down
+the heavily powdered cheeks. “Yes, sir, I did.”</p>
+
+<p>“Intimately?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir. I guess so. Ever since I was ten. We went to
+school and high school together; she was quite a little younger
+than me, but we were best friends.”</p>
+
+<p>The tears rained down quietly and Miss Biggs brushed them
+impatiently away with the clumsy gloved fingers.</p>
+
+<p>“You were fond of her?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir, I was awful fond of her.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you see much of her during the years of 1916 and ’17?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir; I just lived three houses down the block. I used
+to see her every day.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you know Patrick Ives too?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir; I knew him pretty well.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was there much comment on his attention to your friend
+Madeleine during the year 1916?”</p>
+
+<p>“Everyone knew they had a terrible case on each other,”
+said Miss Biggs simply.</p>
+
+<p>“Were they supposed to be engaged?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir, I don’t know as they were; but everyone sort of
+thought they would be.”</p>
+
+<p>“Their relations were freely discussed amongst their friends?”</p>
+
+<p>“They surely were.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you ever discuss the affair with either Mr. Ives or Mrs.
+Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not ever with Pat, I didn’t, but Mimi used to talk about
+it quite a lot.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you remember what she said during the first
+conversation?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I think that the first time was when we had a
+terrible fight about it.” At memory of that far-off quarrel Florrie’s
+blue eyes flooded and brimmed over again. “We’d been on a
+picnic and Pat and Mimi got separated from the rest of us, and
+by and by we went home without them; and it was awfully
+late that night when they got back, and I told Mimi that she
+ought to be carefuller how she went around with a fellow like
+Pat Ives, and she got terrible mad and told me that she knew
+what she was doing and she could look after herself, and that I
+was just jealous and to mind my own business. Oh, she talked
+to me something fierce.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Biggs’s voice broke on a great sob, and suddenly the
+crowded courtroom faded. . . . It was a hot July night in a
+village street and the shrill, angry voices of the two girls
+filled the air. Once more Mimi Dawson, insolent in her young
+beauty, was telling little Florrie Biggs to keep her small snub
+nose out of other people’s affairs. All the injured woe of that
+far-off night was in her sob.</p>
+
+<p>“Did she speak of him again?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, sir, she certainly did. She used to speak of him
+most of the time—after we made it up again, that is.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did she tell you whether they were expecting to be
+married?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not in just so many words, she didn’t, but she used to sort
+of discuss it a lot, like whether it would be a good thing to do,
+and if they’d be happy in Rosemont or whether New York
+wouldn’t work better—you know, just kind of thinking it
+over.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Farr looked gravely sympathetic. “Exactly. Nothing
+more definite than that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I remember once she said that she’d do it in a
+minute if she were sure that Pat had it in him to make good.”</p>
+
+<p>“And did you gather from that and other remarks of hers
+that it was she who was holding back and Mr. Ives who was
+urging marriage?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, sir,” said Miss Biggs, and added earnestly, “I think
+she meant me to gather that.”</p>
+
+<p>There was a warm, friendly little ripple of amusement, at
+which she lifted startled blue eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Quite so. Now when Mr. Ives went to France, Miss Biggs,
+what did your circle consider the state of affairs between them
+to be?”</p>
+
+<p>“We all thought they was sure to get married,” said Miss
+Biggs, and added in a low voice, “Some of us thought maybe
+they was married already.”</p>
+
+<p>“And just what made you think that?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Biggs moved restlessly in her chair. “Oh, nothing
+special, I guess; only they seemed so awfully gone on each other,
+and Pat was always hiring flivvers to take her off to Redfield
+and—and places. They never went much with the crowd any
+more, and lots of people were getting married then—you know,
+war marriages——” The soft, hesitant voice trailed off into
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>“I see. Just what was Mr. Ives’s reputation with your
+crowd, Miss Biggs? Was he a steady, hard-working young
+man?”</p>
+
+<p>“He wasn’t so awfully hard-working, I guess.”</p>
+
+<p>The distressed murmur was not too low to reach Patrick
+Ives’s ears, evidently; for a brief moment his white face was
+lit with the gayest of smiles, impish and endearing. It faded,
+and the eyes that had been suddenly blue faded, too, back to
+their frozen gray.</p>
+
+<p>“Was he popular?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, everyone liked him fine,” said Miss Biggs eagerly. “He
+was the most popular fellow in Rosemont, I guess. He was a
+swell dancer, and he certainly could play on the ukulele and
+skate and do perfectly killing imitations and—and everything.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then why did you warn your friend against consorting
+with this paragon, Miss Biggs?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sir?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why did you tell Mimi Dawson that she shouldn’t play
+around too much with Pat Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh—oh, well, I guess, like she said, I was just foolish and
+it wasn’t none of my business.”</p>
+
+<p>“You said, a ‘fellow like Pat Ives,’ Miss Biggs. What kind
+of a fellow did you mean? The kind of a fellow who played
+the ukulele? Or did he play something else?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well—well, he played cards some—poker, you know, and
+red dog and—well, billiards, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>“He gambled, didn’t he?”</p>
+
+<p>“Now, Your Honour,” remarked Mr. Lambert heavily, “is
+this to be permitted to go on indefinitely? I have deliberately
+refrained from objecting to a most amazing line of
+questions——”</p>
+
+<p>“The Court is inclined to agree with you, Mr. Lambert. Is
+it in any way relevant to the state’s case whether Mr. Ives
+played the ukulele or the organ, Mr. Farr?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is quite essential to the state’s case to prove that Mr.
+Ives has a reckless streak in his character that led directly to
+the murder of Madeleine Bellamy, Your Honour. We contend
+that just as in those months before the war in the village of
+Rosemont, so in the year of 1926, he was gambling with his
+own safety and happiness and honour, and as in those days, with
+the happiness and honour and safety of a woman as well—with
+the same woman with whom he was renewing the affair broken
+off by a trick of fate nine years before. We contend——”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. Well, the Court contends that your questioning along
+these lines has been quite exhaustive enough, and that
+furthermore it doubts its relevance to the present issue. You may
+proceed.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, Your Honour. . . . When Mr. Ives returned
+in 1919, were you still seeing much of Miss Dawson?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir,” said Miss Biggs in a low voice. “Not any hardly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why was that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, mostly it was because she was starting to go with
+another crowd—the country-club crowd, you know. She was
+all the time with Mr. Farwell.”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly. Did you renew your intimacy at any later
+period?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir, not ever.”</p>
+
+<p>Once more the cotton fingers were busy with the
+treacherous tears, falling for Mimi, lost so many years ago—lost again,
+most horribly, after those unhappy years.</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, Miss Biggs. That will be all. Cross-examine.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert’s heavy face, turned to those drowned and
+terrified eyes, was almost paternal. “You say that for many years
+there was no intimacy between you and Mrs. Bellamy, Miss
+Biggs?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir, there wasn’t—not any.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Bellamy never took you into her confidence as to her
+feelings toward Mr. Ives after her marriage?”</p>
+
+<p>“She never took me into her confidence about anything at
+all—no, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“You never saw her after her marriage?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, I did see her. I went there two or three times for
+tea.”</p>
+
+<p>“Everything was pleasant?”</p>
+
+<p>“She was very polite and pleasant—yes, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“But there was no tendency to confide in you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t ask her to confide in me,” said Miss Biggs. “I
+didn’t ask her for anything at all—not anything.”</p>
+
+<p>“But if there had been anything to confide, it would have
+been quite natural to confide in you—girls generally confide in
+their best friend, don’t they?”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess so.”</p>
+
+<p>“And as far as you know, there were no guilty relations
+between Mrs. Bellamy and Mr. Ives at the time of her death?”</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t know even whether she saw Mr. Ives,” said Florrie
+Biggs.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert beamed gratefully. “Thank you, Miss Biggs.
+That’s all.”</p>
+
+<p>“Just one moment more, please.” The prosecutor, too, was
+looking as paternal as was possible under the rather severe
+limitations of his saturnine countenance. “Mr. Lambert was just
+asking you if it would have been natural for her to confide in
+you, as girls generally confide in their best friends. At the time
+of this murder, and for many years previous, you weren’t Mrs.
+Bellamy’s best friend, were you, Miss Biggs?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir, I guess I wasn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“There was very little affection and intimacy between you,
+wasn’t there?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know what you call between us,” said Miss. Biggs,
+and the pretty, common, swollen face was suddenly invested
+with dignity and beauty. “I loved her better than anyone I
+knew. She was the only best friend I ever had—ever.”</p>
+
+<p>And swept by the hunger in that quiet and humble voice,
+the courtroom was suddenly empty of everyone but two little
+girls, warm cheeked, bright eyed, gingham clad—a sleek
+pig-tailed head and a froth of bright curls locked together over
+an inkstained desk. Best friends—four scuffed feet flying down
+the twilight street on roller skates—two mittened paws
+clutching each other under the shaggy robe of the bell-hung sleigh—a
+slim arm around a chubby waist on the hay cart—decorous,
+mischievous eyes meeting over the rims of the frosted glasses of
+sarsaparilla while brown-stockinged legs swung free of the tall
+drug-store stools—a shrill voice calling down the street in the
+sweet-scented dusk, “Yoo-hoo, Mimi! Mimi, c’mon out and
+play.” Mimi, Mimi, lying so still with red on your white lace
+dress, come on out and——</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, Miss Biggs: that’s all.”</p>
+
+<p>She stumbled a little on the step of the witness box, brushed
+once more at her eyes with impatient fingers and was gone.</p>
+
+<p>“Call Mrs. Daniel Ives.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Daniel Ives!”</p>
+
+<p>All through the Court went that quickening thrill of
+interest. A little old lady was moving with delicate precision down
+the far aisle to the witness box; the red-headed girl glanced
+quickly from her to the corner where Patrick Ives was sitting.
+He had half risen from his seat and was watching her progress
+with a passion of protest on his haggard young face. Well, even
+the prosecutor said that this reckless young man had been a
+good son, and it could hardly be a pleasant sight for the worst
+of sons to see his mother moving steadily toward that place of
+inquisition, and to realize that it was his folly that had sent her
+there. He sat down abruptly, turning his face toward the blue
+autumnal sky outside the window, against which the bare
+boughs of the tree spread like black lace. The circles under
+his eyes looked darker than ever.</p>
+
+<p>As quietly as though it were a daily practice, Mrs. Ives was
+raising a neat black-gloved hand to take the oath and setting
+a daintily shod foot on the step of the witness box. She seated
+herself unhurriedly, opened the black fur collar at her throat,
+folded her hands on the edge of the box, and lifted a pair of
+dark blue eyes, bravely serene, to the shrewd coolness of the
+prosecutor. There was just a glimpse of silver hair under the
+old-fashioned black toque with its wisp of lace and round jet
+pins; there was the faintest touch of pink in her cheeks and a
+small smile on her lips, shy and gracious. The kind of mother,
+decided the red-headed girl, that you would invent, if you were
+very talented.</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Ives, you are the mother of Patrick Ives, are you not?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am.”</p>
+
+<p>The gentle voice was as clear and true as a little bell.</p>
+
+<p>“You heard Miss Biggs’s testimony?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes; my hearing is still excellent.” The small smile
+deepened for a moment to friendly amusement.</p>
+
+<p>“Were you aware of the state of affairs between Madeleine
+Bellamy and your son at the time that war broke out?”</p>
+
+<p>“I was aware that he was paying her very marked
+attention, naturally, but I was most certainly not aware that they
+were seriously considering marriage. Both of them seemed
+absolute babies to me, of course.”</p>
+
+<p>“Had your son confided in you his intentions on the
+subject?”</p>
+
+<p>“I believe that if he had had any such intentions he would
+have; but no, he had not.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were entirely in his confidence?”</p>
+
+<p>“I hope so. I believe so.” The deep blue eyes hovered
+compassionately over the averted face strained toward the
+window, and then moved tranquilly back to meet the prosecutor’s.</p>
+
+<p>“When this affair with Mrs. Bellamy was renewed in 1926,
+did he confide it to you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no.”</p>
+
+<p>“Showing thereby that you were not entirely in his
+confidence, Mrs. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“Or showing perhaps that there was nothing to confide,” said
+Mrs. Daniel Ives gently.</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor jerked his head irritably. “The state is in
+possession of an abundance of material to prove that there was
+everything to confide, I assure you, Mrs. Ives. However, it is
+not my intention to make this any more difficult for you than
+is strictly necessary. How long ago did you come to
+Rosemont?”</p>
+
+<p>“About fifteen years ago.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were a widow and obliged to support yourself?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, that’s hardly accurate. I was not supporting myself
+entirely and I was not a widow.” The pale roses deepened a
+little under the black toque, but the voice was a trifle clearer
+than before.</p>
+
+<p>“You mean that at the time you came to Rosemont your
+husband was still living?” The prosecutor made no attempt to
+disguise the astonishment in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>“I do not know whether he was living or not. He had left
+me, you see, almost seventeen years before I came to Rosemont. I
+learned three years ago that he was dead, but not when he
+died.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Ives, I do not wish to dwell on a subject that must
+be painful to you, but I would like to get this straight. Were
+you divorced?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is not at all painful to me,” said Patrick Ives’s mother
+gently, her small gloved hands wrung tightly together on the
+edge of the witness box. “It happened many years ago, and
+my life since has been full of so many things. We were
+not divorced. My husband was younger than I, and our
+marriage was not happy. He left me for a much younger
+woman.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was believed in Rosemont that you were a widow, was
+it not?”</p>
+
+<p>“Everyone in Rosemont believed me to be a widow except
+Pat, who had known the truth since he was quite a little
+boy. It was foolish of me not to tell the truth, perhaps, but I
+had a great distaste for pity.” She smiled again, graciously,
+at the prosecutor. “False pride was about the only luxury
+that I indulged in, in those days.”</p>
+
+<p>“You say that you were supporting both your son and
+yourself?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. Pat was doing any little jobs that he could get, as
+he had done since he sold papers on the corner when he was
+six years old.” For a moment the smile faded and she eyed
+the prosecutor steadfastly, almost sternly, as though daring
+him to challenge that statement, and for a moment it looked
+as though he were about to do exactly that, when abruptly
+he veered.</p>
+
+<p>“Were you in the garden the night of the nineteenth of
+June, Mrs. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“In the rose garden—yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you see Miss Page on her way to the sand pile?”</p>
+
+<p>“I believe that I did, although I have nothing that
+particularly fixes it in my mind.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you see your daughter-in-law?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the faintest shadow passed over her face—a
+shadow of doubt, of hesitancy. Her glance went past the
+prosecutor to the place where her daughter-in-law was sitting,
+quietly attentive, and briefly, profoundly, their eyes met. The
+shadow passed.</p>
+
+<p>“Which way was she going?”</p>
+
+<p>“She was going past the rose garden toward the back gate
+of the house.”</p>
+
+<p>“Just one moment, Mrs. Ives. What is the distance between
+Mr. Ives’s house and Orchards?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that depends on how you approach it. By road it
+must be almost two miles, but if you use the little footpath
+that cuts across the meadows north of the house, it can’t be
+less than a mile.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you know where that path comes out?”</p>
+
+<p>“I believe that it comes out by a little summerhouse or
+playhouse on the Thorne estate.”</p>
+
+<p>“Far from the gardener’s cottage?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no—Miss Page said that it was quite near it, I think.
+She had been using it to take the children over to the playhouse
+on several occasions—and as it was quite without Mrs. Ives’s
+knowledge, I spoke to my son about it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did other members of the household make use of this path?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not to my knowledge.”</p>
+
+<p>“Now, Mrs. Ives, when Mrs. Patrick Ives passed you in the
+garden, did she speak to you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Just what did she say?”</p>
+
+<p>“As nearly as I can remember, she said that she was going to
+the movies with the Conroys, and that she wasn’t sure whether
+she would be back before I got to bed. She added that Pat was
+going to play poker.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing more?”</p>
+
+<p>“That is all that I remember.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you see her again that night?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Will you tell us when?”</p>
+
+<p>“I saw her twice. Not more than two or three minutes after
+she passed me in the rose garden, she came back and went
+toward the house, almost running. I was at the far end of the
+garden by then, working on some trellises, and I didn’t speak
+to her. She seemed in a great hurry, and I thought that she had
+probably forgotten something—her bag or a scarf for her hair,
+perhaps. She wasn’t wearing any hat. A minute or so later
+she came out of the house and ran back down the path to the
+back gate.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was she wearing a scarf on her hair?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“Had she a bag?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t remember seeing a bag, but she might well have
+had one.”</p>
+
+<p>“She did not speak to you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“And those were the two times that you refer to?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no,” corrected Mrs. Ives gently. “I thought of those
+occasions as forming one time. I saw her again, a good deal
+later in the evening.”</p>
+
+<p>Once more the courtroom was filled with that strange
+stir—the movement of hundreds of bodies moving an inch nearer
+to the edges of chairs.</p>
+
+<p>“Good Lord!” murmured the reporter devoutly. “She’s
+going to give the girl an alibi! Look out, you old fox!”</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor, thus disrespectfully and inaudibly adjured,
+moved boldly forward. “At what time did you see your
+daughter-in-law, Mrs. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“You’ve got to grant him nerve,” continued the reporter,
+unabashed. “Or probably he’s betting that the old lady wouldn’t
+perjure herself even to save her son’s wife. I’d rather bet it
+myself.”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Ives, who had been sitting silently studying her linked
+fingers, raised an untroubled countenance to the prosecutor’s,
+but for the first time she spoke as though she were weighing
+her words: “It is difficult for me to give you the exact time, as
+I did not look at a clock. I had been in bed for quite a little
+while, however, and had turned out the light. I should say,
+roughly, that it might have been half-past ten. It was quite dark
+when I came into the house myself, I remember, and I believe
+that it stayed light at that time until long after nine.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was your habit to work in the garden until it was dark?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; gardening is both my recreation and occupation.”
+Mrs. Ives’s tranquil eyes smiled at the prosecutor as though
+she expected to find in him an understanding soul. “Those
+hours after dinner were a great happiness to me, and often after
+it was too dark for any further work I would prolong them
+by sitting on a bench in the rose arbour and thinking over
+work well done. It was generally dark before I came in.”</p>
+
+<p>“And was on the night of the nineteenth of June?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes; it had been dark for some time.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you go straight to bed when you came in?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; I stopped for a moment in the flower room to put
+away the basket with my tools and to tidy up a bit. Gardening
+is a grubby business.” Again that delicate, friendly smile. “Just
+as I was coming out I saw Melanie, the waitress, turning out
+the lights in the living room, and I remember thinking that it
+must be ten o’clock, as that was the time that she usually did
+it if the family were not at home. Then I went on up to bed.
+It wasn’t very long after I had turned out the light that I
+heard the front door close and thought, ‘That must be Sue.’ ”</p>
+
+<p>“It didn’t occur to you that it might be your son?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no; Pat never got in before twelve if he was playing
+cards.”</p>
+
+<p>“You say that you saw Mrs. Ives. Did she come straight up
+to your room?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; about five minutes after I heard the door close, I
+imagine. My room is in the left wing of the house, you understand,
+and I always leave my door a little ajar. Sue came to the door
+and asked in a whisper, ‘Are you awake, Mother?’ I said that I
+was and she came in, saying, ‘I brought you your fruit; I’ll
+just put it on the stand.’ ”</p>
+
+<p>“Was she in the habit of doing that?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, not exactly in the habit—that was Pat’s task, but Sue
+is the most thoughtful child alive, and she had remembered
+that Pat wasn’t there.” Once more her eyes, loving and
+untroubled, smiled into Sue’s.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you turn on the light, Mrs. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“Weren’t you going to take the fruit?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no; I am not a very good sleeper, and I saved the fruit
+for the small hours of the morning.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were not able to see Mrs. Ives clearly, in that case?”</p>
+
+<p>“I could see her quite clearly; there was a very bright light
+in the hall.”</p>
+
+<p>“You noticed nothing extraordinary in her appearance?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing whatever.”</p>
+
+<p>“She was wearing the clothes that you had last seen her in?”</p>
+
+<p>“She was wearing the dress, but she had taken off the coat,
+I believe.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah-h!” sighed the courtroom under its breath.</p>
+
+<p>“What kind of a coat, Mrs. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“A little cream-coloured flannel coat.” Not by the flicker of
+an eyelash did Mrs. Ives admit the sinister significance of that
+sigh.</p>
+
+<p>“Did she say anything further?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. I asked her whether she had enjoyed the movie, and
+she said that she had not gone to Rosemont, as she had met
+Stephen Bellamy in his car on her way to the Conroys’ and he
+had given her a lift. He told her that the picture in Rosemont
+was an old one that they had both seen, and suggested that
+they drive over by the River Road and see what was running
+in Lakedale. When they got there they discovered that they
+had seen that film, too, so they drove around a little longer and
+then came home.”</p>
+
+<p>“That was all that she said?”</p>
+
+<p>“She wished me sweet dreams, I believe, and kissed me
+good-night.”</p>
+
+<p>Under the gentle directness of her gaze, the prosecutor’s face
+hardened. “Where was the fruit that you speak of usually kept,
+Mrs. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“I believe that it was kept in a small refrigerator in the
+pantry.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was there a sink in that pantry?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor advanced deliberately toward the witness
+box, lowering his voice to a strangely menacing pitch: “Mrs.
+Ives, during the space that elapsed between the closing of the
+front door and Mrs. Patrick Ives’s appearance in your
+bedroom, there would have been ample time for her to have
+washed her hands at that sink, would there not?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, surely.”</p>
+
+<p>There was not even a second’s hesitation in that swift reply,
+not a second’s cloud over the lifted, slightly wondering face;
+but the little cold wind moved again through the courtroom.
+Over the clear, unfaltering syllables there was the sound of
+running water—of water that ran red, as Sue, the thoughtful,
+cleansed the hands that were to bear the fruit for the waiting
+mother.</p>
+
+<p>“That will be all, Mrs. Ives,” said the prosecutor.
+“Cross-examine.”</p>
+
+<p>She turned her face quietly toward Lambert’s ruddy one.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll keep you only a minute, Mrs. Ives.” The rotund voice
+was softened to one of friendliest concern. “Mrs. Ives seemed
+quite herself when she came into the room?”</p>
+
+<p>“Absolutely herself.”</p>
+
+<p>“No undue agitation?”</p>
+
+<p>“She was not agitated in the slightest.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Farr has asked you whether your son ever confided to
+you that he was having an affair with Mrs. Bellamy. I ask you
+whether he ever intimated that he was unhappy?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not ever.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did Mrs. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“Never.”</p>
+
+<p>“What was your impression as to their relations?”</p>
+
+<p>“I thought——” For the first time the clear voice faltered,
+broke. She forced it back to steadiness relentlessly. “I thought
+that they were the happiest people that ever lived,” said Patrick
+Ives’s mother.</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, Mrs. Ives,” said Mr. Lambert gently. “That
+will be all.”</p>
+
+<p>“Want me to bring back a sandwich?” inquired the
+reporter hospitably, gathering up his notes.</p>
+
+<p>“Please,” said the red-headed girl meekly.</p>
+
+<p>“Sure you don’t want to trail along? That drug store really
+isn’t half bad.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m always afraid that something might happen to me and
+that I mightn’t get back,” explained the red-headed girl. “Like
+getting run over, or arrested or kidnapped or something. . . .
+One with lettuce in it, please.”</p>
+
+<p>She sat contemplating the remaining occupants of the press
+seats about her with fascinated eyes. Evidently others were
+agitated by the same fears that haunted her. At any rate, three
+or four dozen were still clinging to their places, reading or
+writing or talking with impartial animation. They looked much
+nicer and less impersonal scattered about like that, but they
+still made her feel dreadfully shy and incompetent. They all
+knew one another so well; they were so casual and
+self-contained. Hurrying through the corridors, their ribald, salty
+banter broke over her in waves, leaving her drowned and
+forlorn.</p>
+
+<p>She liked them awfully—that lanky, middle-aged man with
+the shrewd, sensitive face, jabbering away with the
+opulent-looking young creature in the sealskin cap and cloak; that
+Louisville reporter with her thin pretty face and little one-sided
+smile; that stocky youngster with the white teeth and the
+enormous vocabulary and the plaid necklace; that really
+beautiful girl who looked like an Italian opera singer and swore
+like a pirate, and arrived every day exactly an hour late in a
+flame-coloured blouse up to her chin and a little black helmet
+down to her eyebrows.</p>
+
+<p>“Here’s your sandwich,” said the reporter—“two of ’em,
+just to show my heart’s in the right place. The poisonous-looking
+pink one is currant jelly and the healthy-looking green one is
+lettuce. That’s what I call a balanced ration! Fall to!”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl fell to obediently and gratefully.</p>
+
+<p>“I do like the way newspaper people look,” she said when
+only a few crumbs of the balanced ration remained.</p>
+
+<p>“Ten thousand thanks,” said the newspaper man. “Myself,
+I do like the way lady authoresses look.”</p>
+
+<p>“I mean I like them because they look so—so awfully alive,”
+explained the red-headed girl sedately, keeping her eyes on the
+girl in the flame-coloured blouse lest the cocky young man
+beside her should read the unladylike interest that he roused in
+her.</p>
+
+<p>“Ah, well, in that case, not more than one thousand thanks,”
+said the reporter—“and those somewhat tempered. Look alive,
+do we? There’s a glowing tribute for you! I trust that you’ll
+be profoundly ashamed of yourself when I inform you that I
+meant nothing of the kind when I extolled the appearance of
+lady authoresses. Dead or alive, I like the way their hair grows
+over their ears, and their discreet use of dimples, and the
+useless length of their eyelashes. Meditate on that for a
+while!”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl meditated, while both her colour and her
+dimples deepened. At the end of her meditations she inquired
+politely, “Is it true that Mr. Bellamy’s counsel broke his
+leg?”</p>
+
+<p>“Couldn’t be truer. Fell down the Subway stairs at
+eleven-forty-five last night and is safe in the hospital this morning.
+Lambert’s taking over Bellamy’s defense; he and those two
+important, worried-looking kids who sit beside him at the desk
+down there reading great big enormous law books and are
+assistant counsel—whatever that means. . . . Ah, here’s Ben
+Potts! Fine fellow, Ben. . . . We’re off!”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Elliot Farwell!”</p>
+
+<p>A thickset, broad-shouldered individual, with hair as slick
+as oiled patent leather, puffy eyes, and overprominent blue
+jowls, moved heavily toward the witness box. An overgaudy
+tie that looked as though it came from the ten-cent store and
+had actually come from France, a waistcoat that made you
+think vaguely of checks, though it was quite guiltless of them;
+a handkerchief with an orange-and-green monogram ramping
+across one corner—the stuff of which con men and race-track
+touts and ham actors and men about town are made. The
+red-headed girl eyed him severely. Thus she was wont to regard his
+little brother and big brother at the night clubs, as they leaned
+conqueringly across little tables, offering heavily engraved flasks
+to limp chits clad in shoulder straps and chiffon handkerchiefs.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Farwell, where were you on the afternoon of the
+nineteenth of June at about five o’clock?”</p>
+
+<p>“At the Rosemont Country Club.”</p>
+
+<p>Not a pleasant voice at all, Mr. Farwell’s; a heavy, sullen
+voice, thickened and coarsened with some disreputable alchemy.</p>
+
+<p>“What were you doing?”</p>
+
+<p>“I was just hanging around after golf, having a couple of
+drinks.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you see Mrs. Patrick Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Talk with her?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Will you give us the substance of your conversation?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Farwell shifted his bulk uneasily in his chair. “How do
+you mean—the substance of it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Just outline what you said to Mrs. Ives.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I told her——” The heavy voice lumbered to silence.
+“Do I have to answer that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly, Mr. Farwell.” Judge Carver’s voice was edged
+with impatience.</p>
+
+<p>“I told her that she’d better keep an eye on her husband,”
+blurted Mr. Farwell desperately.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you give her any reason for doing that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course I gave her a reason.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, just give it to us, too, will you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I told her that he was making a fool of himself with Mimi.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing more specific than that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I told her that they were meeting each other secretly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where?”</p>
+
+<p>“At the gardener’s cottage at Orchards.” Those who were
+near enough could see the little beads of sweat on Mr.
+Farwell’s forehead.</p>
+
+<p>“How did you know that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Orsini told me.”</p>
+
+<p>“And who is Orsini?”</p>
+
+<p>“He’s the Bellamys’ man of all work—tends to the garden
+and furnace and all that kind of thing.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, just how did Orsini come to tell you about this, Mr.
+Farwell?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because I’d twice seen Mrs. Bellamy take the Perrytown
+bus, alone, and I told Orsini that I’d give him ten dollars if
+he found out for me where she was going. He said he didn’t
+need to find out—he knew.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did he tell you how he knew?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; he knew because it was he that loaned her the key
+to the cottage. She’d found out that he had the key, and
+she told him some cock-and-bull story about wanting to
+practise on the cottage piano that the gardener had there, and he
+used to loan it to her whenever she asked for it, and generally
+she’d forget to give it back to him till the next day.”</p>
+
+<p>“How did he happen to have it?”</p>
+
+<p>“The Thornes’ gardener was a friend of his, and he left it
+with Orsini when he went off on his vacation to Italy, because
+he’d left some kind of homebrew down in the cellar, and he
+wanted Orsini to keep an eye on it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you know when she had last borrowed it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; she’d borrowed it round noon on the nineteenth. I
+went by her house a little before one to see if she would take
+lunch with me at the club, and Orsini was fixing up the gate
+in the picket fence. He told me that Mimi had left about half
+an hour ago in their car, asking for the key, as she said she
+wanted to go to the cottage to practise. So I went after her.”</p>
+
+<p>“To the gardener’s cottage?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was she there?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“How did you know that she wasn’t there, Mr. Farwell?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because there wasn’t any car, nor any music either.”</p>
+
+<p>There was a surly defiance in Farwell’s tone that the
+prosecutor blandly ignored.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you go into the cottage?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; it was locked.”</p>
+
+<p>“What did you do then?”</p>
+
+<p>“It started to rain while I was standing on the porch and
+I stopped and tossed up a coin as to whether to go on to the
+club, hoping it would clear up enough for golf, or to go back
+to the bungalow. It came tails, so I waited for a minute or
+so and went on to the club.”</p>
+
+<p>“Whom did you find there?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Bellamy, Dick Burgoyne, the Conroys, the Dallases,
+Sue Ives—all the crowd. It cleared up after lunch, and most
+of us went off to the links. Sue made up a foursome with the
+Conroys and Steve Bellamy, who turned up on the two o’clock
+train. Mimi played a round with Burgoyne, and I went with
+George Dallas. We all got round within a few minutes of
+each other and sat around, getting drinks and gabbing.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was it then that you told Mrs. Ives about this affair of
+her husband’s?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was around that time.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was Mr. Ives there?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; he’d telephoned that he couldn’t get out till
+dinner-time.”</p>
+
+<p>“Just what made you tell Mrs. Ives this story, Mr.
+Farwell?”</p>
+
+<p>Elliot Farwell’s heavy jowls became slightly more prominent.
+“Well, I’d had a drink too many, I guess, and I was good
+and fed up with the whole thing. I thought Sue was a peach,
+and it made me sick to see what Ives was getting away with.”</p>
+
+<p>“What did Mrs. Ives say?”</p>
+
+<p>“She said that I was out of my head, and I told her that
+I’d bet her a thousand dollars to five cents that Mimi and Pat
+would tell some fairy stories about what they were doing that
+evening and meet at the cottage. And I told her that I’d
+waited behind the bushes at the lodge gates the week before
+when Sue was in New York, and seen both of them go up the
+drive—Mimi on foot and Ives ten minutes later in the car.
+That worried her; she wasn’t sure how sober I was, but she
+cut out telling me I was crazy.”</p>
+
+<p>He paused and the prosecutor lifted an impatient voice.
+“Then what, Mr. Farwell?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, a little while after that George Dallas came over
+and said that if Sue wanted him to, he’d stop on the way home
+and show her how to make the new cocktail that he’d been
+telling her about, so that she could surprise Pat with it at
+dinner. And she said all right, and we all piled into our cars
+and headed for her place—all except Mimi and Bellamy. They’d
+left a few minutes before, because they had dinner early.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you have any further conversation with Mrs. Ives
+on the subject?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not anything that you’d call conversation. There was a
+whole crew jabbering around there at her place.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, did she mention it again?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, well, she came up to me just when I was going—I was
+looking around for my hat in the hall—and she said, ‘Elliot,
+don’t tell anyone else that you’ve told me about this, will you?’
+And I said, ‘All right.’ And she said, ‘Promise. I don’t want
+it to get back to Pat that I know until I decide what to do.’
+And so I said sure I’d promise. And then I cleared out.”</p>
+
+<p>In the hushed courtroom his voice sounded ugly and defiant,
+but he kept his face turned stubbornly away from Sue Ives’s
+clear attentive eyes, which never once had left it, and which
+widened a little now, gravely ironic, as the man who had
+promised not to tell sullenly broke that promise.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh,” whispered the red-headed girl fiercely—“oh, the cad!
+He’s trying to make it look as though she did it—as though
+she meant to do it even then.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, come on, now!” remonstrated the reporter judicially.
+“Give the poor devil his due! After all, he’s on oath, and the
+prosecutor’s digging into him with a pickax and spade. Here,
+look out, or we’ll miss something!”</p>
+
+<p>“And after you and Mr. Burgoyne had dined, Mr.
+Farwell?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I had a rotten headache, so I decided that I wouldn’t
+go over to Dallases’ for the poker game after all, but that I’d
+turn in and read a detective story that I’d brought out with me.
+I called up George to ask if he’d have enough without me, and
+he said yes, so I decided that I’d call it a night and went up
+to my bedroom.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you see Mr. Burgoyne before he left?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, he stuck his head in the door just as I was putting on
+my bathrobe and asked if there was anything he could do, and
+I said nothing but tell George I was sorry.”</p>
+
+<p>“Have you any idea what time that was?”</p>
+
+<p>“It must have been round quarter to nine; the party was to
+start about nine, and he was walking.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you read for long after he left?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I read right along; but about half-past nine I got up
+for a cigarette, and I couldn’t find a match, so I started
+hunting through the pockets of the golf suit I’d been wearing, for
+my lighter. It wasn’t there. I remembered that I’d used it on
+the way over to the cottage—I kept it in my pocket with my
+loose change—and all of a sudden it came back to me that I’d
+pulled a handkerchief out of that pocket when I was getting
+that coin to toss up on the porch and I’d thought I heard
+something drop, and looked around a little, but I didn’t pay
+much attention to it, because I thought probably it was just
+some change that had rolled off the porch. I realized then that
+it must have been the lighter, and I was sore as the devil.”</p>
+
+<p>“Will you tell us why, Mr. Farwell?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because I didn’t want anyone to know I’d been hanging
+round the cottage, and the lighter was marked on the inside.”</p>
+
+<p>“Marked with your name?”</p>
+
+<p>“Marked with an inscription—Elliot, from Mimi,
+Christmas, 1918.”</p>
+
+<p>The coarse voice was suddenly shaken, the coarse face
+suddenly pale—Elliot from Mimi, Christmas, 1918.</p>
+
+<p>“What did you do after you missed the lighter, Mr.
+Farwell?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I cursed myself good and plenty and went on a hunt
+for matches downstairs. There wasn’t one in the whole darned
+place, and I was too lazy to get into my clothes again, so
+I called Dick at the Dallases’ and asked him to be sure to
+bring some home with him.”</p>
+
+<p>“What time did you telephone?”</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t look at the time. It was half-past nine when I
+started to look for the matches. Quarter to ten—ten minutes
+to, maybe.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you go back to bed?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; but I went on reading for quite a while. I’d dozed off
+by the time Dick came in, though the light was still burning.”</p>
+
+<p>“What time was that?”</p>
+
+<p>“A little after half-past eleven.”</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor stood eyeing the heavy countenance before
+him speculatively for a moment, and then, with a quick shake
+of his narrow, sleek, finely poised head, took his decision.
+“Mr. Farwell, when did you first tell the story that you have
+been telling us?”</p>
+
+<p>“On June twenty-first.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where did you tell it?”</p>
+
+<p>“In your office.”</p>
+
+<p>“At whose request?”</p>
+
+<p>“At——”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert, who had been sitting twitching in his chair,
+emitted a roar of protest as he bounded to his feet that
+effectually drowned out any information Mr. Farwell was about
+to impart. “I object, Your Honour! I object! What does it
+matter whether this witness told his story in the prosecutor’s
+office or the Metropolitan Opera House? The point is that
+he’s telling it here, and anything else is deliberately beside the
+mark. I——”</p>
+
+<p>“The Court is inclined to agree with you, Mr. Lambert.
+What is the object of establishing when, where, and why Mr.
+Farwell told this story, Mr. Farr?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because, Your Honour, it is entirely owing to the insistence
+of the state that Mr. Farwell is at present making a series of
+admissions that if misinterpreted by the jury might be highly
+prejudicial to Mr. Farwell. There is not one chance in a
+hundred that the defense would have brought out under
+cross-examination the fact that Mr. Farwell was at the gardener’s
+cottage on the nineteenth of June—a fact that I have
+deliberately elicited in my zeal to set all the available facts before
+the jury. But in common fairness to Mr. Farwell, I think that
+I should be permitted to bring out the circumstances under
+which I obtained this information.”</p>
+
+<p>Judge Carver paraded his fine, keen old eyes meditatively
+from the ruddy full moon of Mr. Lambert’s countenance to the
+black-and-white etching of the prosecutor’s, cold as ice, for
+all the fever of intensity behind it; on farther still to the
+bull-necked and blue-jowled occupant of the witness box. There
+was a faint trace of distaste in their depths as they returned to
+the prosecutor. Perhaps it was that distaste that swung back
+the pendulum. Judge Carver had the reputation of being as fair
+as he was hard.</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, Mr. Farr. The Court sees no impropriety in
+having you state those circumstances as briefly as possible.”</p>
+
+<p>“May I have an objection to that, Your Honour?”
+Lambert’s face had deepened to a fine claret.</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly.”</p>
+
+<p>“On the morning of the twenty-first of June,” said Mr.
+Farr, “I asked Mr. Farwell to come to my office. When
+he arrived I told him that we had information in our hands
+that definitely connected him with this atrocious crime, and
+that I sincerely advised him to make a clean breast of all
+his movements. He proceeded to do so promptly, and told
+me exactly the same story that he has told you. It came,
+frankly, as a surprise to me, but it in no way altered or
+modified the state’s case. I therefore decided to put Mr. Farwell on
+the stand in order to let you have all the facts.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was the information that you possessed connecting Mr.
+Farwell with the crime the cigarette lighter, Mr. Farr?”
+inquired Judge Carver gravely.</p>
+
+<p>“No, Your Honour; it was Mrs. Ives’s telephone
+conversation with Stephen Bellamy, asking whether Elliot had not
+told him anything. There was no other Elliot in Mrs. Ives’s
+circle of acquaintances.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is the lighter in the possession of the state at present?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, Your Honour,” remarked the prosecutor blandly. “The
+state’s case would be considerably simplified if it were.”</p>
+
+<p>His eye rested, fugitive but penetrating, on Mr. Lambert’s
+heated countenance.</p>
+
+<p>“That is all that you desire to state, Mr. Farr?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, Your Honour. No further questions, Mr. Farwell.
+Cross-examine.”</p>
+
+<p>“What kind of a cigarette lighter was this, Mr. Farwell?”
+There was an ominous rumble in Lambert’s voice.</p>
+
+<p>“A little black enamel and silver thing that you could
+light with one hand. They brought a lot of them over from
+England in ’17 and ’18.”</p>
+
+<p>“Had anyone ever suggested to you that this lighter might
+possibly prove a dangerous weapon against you if it fell into
+the hands of the defense?” inquired Mr. Lambert, in what were
+obviously intended to be silken tones.</p>
+
+<p>“No,” replied Mr. Farwell belligerently; “no one ever told
+me anything of the kind.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Farr permitted himself a fleeting and ironic smile in
+the direction of his adversary before he turned a countenance
+lit with splendid indignation in the direction of the jury.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Farwell, you told the prosecutor that you had had a
+couple of drinks before you confided this story about her
+husband to Mrs. Ives. Was that accurate, or had you had more?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’d had three or four, maybe—I don’t remember.”</p>
+
+<p>“Three or four after you came off the links?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, what of it?” Farwell’s jaw was jutting dangerously.</p>
+
+<p>“Be good enough to answer my question, Mr. Farwell.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right, three or four after I came off the links.”</p>
+
+<p>“And three or four before you started?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t remember how many; we all had something at
+lunch.”</p>
+
+<p>“You had had too many, hadn’t you, Mr. Farwell?”</p>
+
+<p>“Too many for what?”</p>
+
+<p>“Too many for Mimi Bellamy’s good, let us say.” Mr.
+Lambert caught a menacing movement from the chair occupied
+by the prosecutor and hurried on: “Would you have been quite
+so explicit to Mrs. Ives if you had not had those drinks?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know whether I would or not.” The little beads
+of sweat on the low forehead were suddenly larger. “I’d been
+thinking for quite a while that she ought to know what was
+going on.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see. And just what did you think was to be gained by
+her knowledge?”</p>
+
+<p>“I thought she’d put a stop to it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Put a stop to it with a knife, Mr. Farwell?” inquired Mr.
+Lambert, ferociously genial.</p>
+
+<p>And suddenly there leaped from the dull eyes before him
+a flame of such raw agony that Mr. Lambert took a hasty
+and prudent step backward.</p>
+
+<p>“What do you take me for? I thought she’d make him
+cut it out.”</p>
+
+<p>“And it was absolutely essential to you that he should cut it
+out, wasn’t it, Mr. Farwell?”</p>
+
+<p>“What?”</p>
+
+<p>“You were endeavoring to persuade Mrs. Bellamy to divorce
+Mr. Bellamy and marry you, weren’t you, Mr. Farwell?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Farwell sat glaring dumbly at his tormentor out of
+those strange eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Weren’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.” As baldly as though Mr. Farwell were stating that
+he had tried to get her to play a game of bridge.</p>
+
+<p>“How long had it been since your affection for her had
+revived?”</p>
+
+<p>“It hadn’t revived. My affection for her, if that’s what you
+want to call it, hadn’t ever stopped.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I see. And at the time of the murder you were not
+convinced that it was hopeless?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see. But you were a good deal disturbed over this affair
+with Mr. Ives, weren’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“And when you went home you had a few more drinks
+just to celebrate the fact that you’d fixed everything up, didn’t
+you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I had another drink or so.”</p>
+
+<p>“And when you went up to bed with the detective story
+you took a full bottle of whisky with you, didn’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess so.”</p>
+
+<p>“And it was three quarters empty the next morning, wasn’t
+it?”</p>
+
+<p>“How do I know?”</p>
+
+<p>“Wasn’t it found beside your bed almost empty next
+morning, Mr. Farwell?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. I’d taken a good deal of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Farwell, are you sure that you didn’t find that you
+had lost that cigarette lighter before nine-thirty—at a little
+after nine, say?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I told you that it was nine-thirty.”</p>
+
+<p>“What makes you so sure?”</p>
+
+<p>“I looked at my watch.”</p>
+
+<p>“And just why did you do that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because I wanted to know the time.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know—I just wanted to know.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was very convenient that it happened to be just
+nine-thirty, wasn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know what you mean; it wasn’t convenient at all,
+if it comes to that.”</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t? And you don’t see why it was convenient that
+you happened to call up the Dallas house at about ten minutes
+to ten, assuring them thereby that you were safe at home in your
+pajamas?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I don’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“You have a Filipino boy who works for you, haven’t you,
+Mr. Farwell?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was he in the house after Mr. Burgoyne went on to the
+poker party?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; he goes home after he finishes the dinner
+things—around half-past eight usually.”</p>
+
+<p>“So you were absolutely alone in the house?”</p>
+
+<p>“Absolutely.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your car was outside, wasn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was in the garage.”</p>
+
+<p>“It never entered your head when you missed that lighter,
+the loss of which concerned you so deeply, to get into that
+automobile and take the five- or ten-minute drive to Orchards to
+recover it?”</p>
+
+<p>“It certainly didn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“You didn’t do anything of the kind?”</p>
+
+<p>“Look here, I’ve already told you about twenty times that
+I didn’t, haven’t I?” Mr. Farwell’s voice was straining
+perilously at the leash.</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t remember that I’d asked you that before. At what
+time did you first hear of this tragedy, Mr. Farwell?”</p>
+
+<p>“You mean the—murder?”</p>
+
+<p>“Naturally.”</p>
+
+<p>Once more the dull eyes were lit by that strange flare of
+stupefied agony. “At about twelve o’clock Sunday morning,
+I guess—or half-past eleven—I don’t know—sometime late that
+morning. George Dallas telephoned me. I was still half asleep.”</p>
+
+<p>“What did you do?”</p>
+
+<p>“Do? I don’t know what I did. It knocked me cold.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert suddenly thrust his beaming countenance into
+the stolid mask before him. “However cold it might have
+knocked you, Mr. Farwell, don’t you remember that within
+three quarters of an hour of the time that you received this
+news you locked yourself in the library and tried to blow your
+brains out?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said Elliot Farwell, “I remember that.”</p>
+
+<p>“You didn’t succeed because your friend Richard Burgoyne
+had previously emptied the pistol?”</p>
+
+<p>“Correct.”</p>
+
+<p>“And your Filipino boy, looking for you to announce lunch,
+noticed you through the window and set up the alarm, didn’t
+he?”</p>
+
+<p>“So I understand.”</p>
+
+<p>“What did you say to Mr. Burgoyne when he forced his
+way into the library, Mr. Farwell?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t remember.”</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t remember that you said, ‘Keep your hands off
+me, Dick; after what I’ve done, there’s no way out but this’?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I don’t remember it, but I probably said it. I don’t
+remember what I said.”</p>
+
+<p>“What explanation do you offer for that remark, Mr.
+Farwell?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not offering any explanations; if I said it, I said it.
+What difference does it make what I meant?”</p>
+
+<p>“It makes quite a difference, I assure you. You have no
+explanation to offer?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Farwell, for the last time I ask you whether you
+were not at the gardener’s cottage at Orchards on the night of
+June nineteenth?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“At about nine-thirty?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert, the ruddy moon of his countenance suddenly
+alive with malice, shot his question viciously into the tortured
+mask: “It was not your laugh that Mr. Thorne heard coming
+from the cottage, Mr. Farwell?”</p>
+
+<p>“You——”</p>
+
+<p>Over the gasp of the courtroom rose the bellow of rage from
+the witness box, the metallic ring of the prosecutor’s voice,
+the thunder of Judge Carver’s gavel and Ben Potts’s chant.</p>
+
+<p>“Silence! Silence!”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour, I would like to ask one question. Is Mr.
+Farwell on trial for his life here, or is this the case of the
+People versus Bellamy and Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“This Court is not given to answering rhetorical questions,
+Mr. Farr. Mr. Lambert, Mr. Farwell has already told you
+several times that he was not at Orchards on the night of
+June nineteenth. The Court has given you great latitude in
+your cross-examination, but it does not propose to let you
+press it farther along those lines. If you have other questions
+to put, you may proceed.”</p>
+
+<p>“No further questions, Your Honour.” Mr. Lambert’s
+voice remained buoyantly impervious to rebuke.</p>
+
+<p>“One moment, Mr. Farwell.” The prosecutor moved swiftly
+forward. The man in the witness box, who had lurched to his
+feet at that last outrage from the exultant Lambert, turned
+smouldering eyes on him. On the rim of the witness box, his
+hands were shaking visibly—thick, well groomed, insensitive
+hands, with a heavy seal ring on one finger. “You admit that
+you had been drinking heavily before you spoke to Mrs. Ives,
+do you not?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes—yes—yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you regret that fact when you returned home that
+evening?”</p>
+
+<p>“I knew I’d talked too much—yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you regret it still more deeply when you received the
+news of the murder the following morning?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Wasn’t that the reason for your attempted suicide?”</p>
+
+<p>A long pause, and then once more the heavy tortured voice:
+“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Because you realized that harm had come to her through
+your indiscretion?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I told you—yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thanks, that’s all. Call Mr. Dallas.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. George Dallas!”</p>
+
+<p>A jaunty figure in blue serge, with a smart foulard tie and
+curly blond hair just beginning to thin, moved briskly
+forward. Mr. Dallas was obviously a good fellow; there was a
+hearty timbre to his rather light voice, his lips parted
+constantly in an earnestly engaging smile over even white teeth,
+and his brown eyes were the friendliest ever seen out of a
+dog’s head. If he had not had thirty thousand dollars a year,
+he would have been an Elk, a Rotarian, and the best salesman
+on the force.</p>
+
+<p>He cast an earnestly propitiatory smile at Sue Ives, who
+smiled back, faintly and gravely, and an even more earnestly
+propitiatory one at the prosecutor, who returned it somewhat
+perfunctorily.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Dallas, you were giving a poker party on the night of
+the nineteenth of June, were you not?”</p>
+
+<p>“I was indeed.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dallas’s tone implied eloquently that it had been a
+highly successful party, lacking only the prosecutor’s presence
+to make it quite flawless.</p>
+
+<p>“You were present when Mr. Farwell telephoned Mr.
+Burgoyne?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“The telephone was in the room in which you were
+playing?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“About what time did the call come in?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, now let’s see.” Mr. Dallas was all eager helpfulness.
+“It must have been about quarter to ten, because every fifteen
+minutes we were making a jack pot, and I remember that we’d
+had the first and another was just about due when the ’phone
+rang and Dick held up the game for a while.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you get Mr. Burgoyne’s end of the conversation?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, not all of it. We were all making a good deal of
+a racket—just kidding along, you know—but I heard Dick
+say, ‘Oh, put on your clothes and come over and we’ll give
+you enough of ’em to start a bonfire.’ ”</p>
+
+<p>“Did Mr. Burgoyne make any comments after he came
+back?”</p>
+
+<p>“He said, ‘Boys, don’t let me forget to take some matches
+when I go. Farwell hasn’t got one in the house.’ ”</p>
+
+<p>“What time did he leave?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, around eleven-fifteen, I guess; we broke up earlier than
+usual.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you call Mr. Farwell up the following day around
+noon?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I did.” Mr. Dallas’s jaunty accents were suddenly
+tinged with gravity.</p>
+
+<p>“Can you remember that conversation?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I remember that when Elliot answered he still
+sounded half asleep and rather put out. He said, ‘What’s the
+idea, waking a guy up at this time of day?’ And I said, ‘Listen,
+Elliot, something terrible’s happened. I was afraid you’d see
+it in the papers. Mimi Bellamy’s been murdered in the
+gardener’s cottage at Orchards.’ He made a queer sort of noise
+and said, ‘Don’t, George! Don’t, George!’ Don’t—don’t—over
+and over again, as though he were wound up. I said, ‘Don’t
+what?’ But he’d hung up, I guess; anyway he didn’t answer.”</p>
+
+<p>“He seemed startled?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, rather—he seemed absolutely knocked cuckoo.” The
+voice hung neatly between pity and regret, the sober eyes
+tempering the flippant words.</p>
+
+<p>“All right, Mr. Dallas—thanks. Cross-examine.”</p>
+
+<p>As though loath to tear himself from this interesting and
+congenial chatter, Mr. Dallas wrenched his expressive
+countenance from the prosecutor and turned it, flatteringly intent,
+on the roseate Lambert.</p>
+
+<p>“Did other people overhear Mr. Burgoyne’s remarks, Mr.
+Dallas?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I’m quite sure that they must have. We were all within
+a foot or so of each other, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who was in the room?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, there was Burgoyne, and I had Martin and two
+fellows from New York who were out for the week-end,
+and—let’s see——”</p>
+
+<p>“Wasn’t Mr. Ives in the room at the time?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, no,” said Mr. Dallas, a curious, apprehensive shadow
+playing over his sunny countenance. “No, he wasn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see. What time had he arrived, Mr. Dallas?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dallas cast a fleeting and despairing glance at the
+white-faced figure in the corner by the window, and Patrick Ives
+returned it with a steady, amused, indifferent air. “Oh—oh,
+well, he hadn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert stopped, literally transfixed, his eyes bulging
+in his head. “You mean that he hadn’t arrived at a quarter to
+ten?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, he hadn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>For the first time since the trial opened, Sue Ives stirred in
+her seat. She leaned forward swiftly, her eyes, urgent and
+imperious, on her stupefied counsel. Her lifted face, suddenly
+vivid with purpose, her lifted hand, cried a warning to him
+clearer than words. But Mr. Lambert was heeding no
+warnings.</p>
+
+<p>“What time did he get there?”</p>
+
+<p>“He—well, you see—he didn’t get there.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dallas again turned imploring eyes on the gentleman
+in the corner, whose own eyes smiled back indulgently, a little
+more indifferent, a little more amused.</p>
+
+<p>“Had he let you know of this change of plans?”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” said Mr. Dallas wretchedly. “No, he
+hadn’t—exactly.”</p>
+
+<p>“He simply didn’t turn up?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s it—he just didn’t turn up.” Mr. Dallas’s voice
+made a feeble effort to imply that nothing could possibly be
+of less consequence between men of the world.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert, stupor still rounding his eyes, made a vague
+gesture of dismissal, his face carefully averted from Sue Ives’s
+sternly accusing countenance.</p>
+
+<p>“No further questions.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dallas scrambled hastily to his feet, his ingenuous gaze
+turned hopefully on the prosecutor.</p>
+
+<p>The expression on the prosecutor’s classic features,
+however, was not calculated to reassure the most optimistic. Mr.
+Farr was contemplating the amiable countenance of his late
+witness with much the look of astounded displeasure which must
+have adorned Medusa’s first audience. He, too, sketched a
+slight gesture of dismissal toward the door, and Dallas, eager
+and docile, followed it.</p>
+
+<p>The third day of the Bellamy trial was over.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch04">
+
+<h2>Chapter IV</h2>
+
+<p>“Well, this is the time you beat me to it,” commented
+the reporter approvingly. “That’s the hat I like
+too. Want a pencil?”</p>
+
+<p>“I always want a pencil,” said the red-headed girl. “And I
+beat everybody to it. I’d rather get here at six o’clock than go
+through that howling mob of maniacs one single time more.
+Besides, I’ve been sleeping, so I might as well be here. Besides,
+I thought that if I got here early you might tell me whether
+it was Mr. Ives or Mr. Farwell who did it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who did what?”</p>
+
+<p>“Who killed Mrs. Bellamy.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Lord!” groaned the reporter. “Why is it that every
+mortal soul at a murder trial spends his life trying to pin the
+crime on to anyone in the world but the people being tried
+for it. Talk about juries!”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not talking about juries,” said the red-headed girl
+firmly. “I’m talking about Mr. Farwell, and Mr. Ives. Don’t
+you think that it was funny that Mr. Farwell was there that
+day?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, comical as all get out! Still and all, I believe that he
+was there precisely when he said he was. That poor devil
+was telling the truth.”</p>
+
+<p>“How do you know?” inquired the red-headed girl
+respectfully.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you get hunches at this game when you’ve been at it
+long enough.”</p>
+
+<p>“That must be nice. Did you get a hunch about Mr. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“About Pat Ives? I haven’t heard him yet.”</p>
+
+<p>“What did it mean, his not being at that poker game?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, it might have meant anything in the world—or
+nothing. The only thing that’s perfectly clear is that it meant
+that last night was undoubtedly one of wassail and carouse
+for Uncle Dudley Lambert.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why?”</p>
+
+<p>“My dear child, didn’t you see the look of unholy glee that
+flooded the old gentleman’s countenance when he realized that
+young Mr. Ives hadn’t a shadow of an alibi for that eventful
+evening?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, but why?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because the only thing that Uncle Dudley would as soon
+do as save his angel goddaughter from the halter is to drape
+one around Pat Ives’s neck. He’s hated Pat ever since he dared
+to subject his precious Sue to a life of good healthy hardship
+in New York; he’s never forgiven him for estranging her from
+her father; and since he found out that he betrayed her with
+the Bellamy girl, he’s been simply imbecile with rage. And now,
+through some heaven-sent fluke, he’s enabled to put his life in
+jeopardy. He’s almost out of his head. He’d better go a bit
+warily, however. If I can read the human countenance—and
+it may interest you to know that I can read the human
+countenance—Mrs. Patrick Ives is not entirely in favour of sending
+her unworthy spouse to the gallows. She had a monitory look
+in her eye that bodes ill for Uncle Dudley if she ever realizes
+what he’s doing.”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl heaved an unhappy sigh. “Well, I don’t
+believe that anyone did it,” she remarked spaciously. “Not
+anyone here, I mean. Burglars, probably, or one of those funny
+organizations, or——”</p>
+
+<p>“Silence, silence! The Court!”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Farr had a new purple necktie, sombre and impressive;
+Mr. Lambert was a trifle more frivolous, though the polka
+dots were discreet; Mrs. Ives wore the same tweed suit, the
+same copper-coloured hat. Heavens, it might as well be a
+uniform!</p>
+
+<p>“Call Miss Cordier.”</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Melanie Cordier!”</p>
+
+<p>The slim elegance of the figure in the severely simple black
+coat and black <i>cloche</i> hat was especially startling when one
+remembered that Miss Melanie Cordier was the waitress in the
+Ives household. It was a trifle more comprehensible when one
+remembered that she was as Gallic as her name implied.
+With her creamy skin, her long black eyes and smooth black
+curves of hair, her lacquer-red mouth exactly matching the
+lacquer-red camellia on her lapel, Miss Cordier bore a striking
+resemblance to a fashion magazine’s cover designs. She mounted
+the witness box with profound composure and seated herself,
+elaborately at ease.</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Cordier, what was your occupation on the nineteenth
+of June, 1926?”</p>
+
+<p>“I was waitress in the employment of Mrs. Patrick Ives.”
+There was only the faintest trace of accent in the clear
+syllables—a slight softening of consonants and broadening of
+vowels, becoming enough variations on an Anglo-Saxon theme.</p>
+
+<p>“How long had you been in her employ?”</p>
+
+<p>“A year and nine month—ten month. I could not be quite
+sure.”</p>
+
+<p>“How did you happen to go to Mrs. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was through Mrs. Bellamy that I go.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Stephen Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir, through Mrs. Stephen Bellamy.”</p>
+
+<p>“Will you tell us just how that happened, Miss Cordier?”</p>
+
+<p>“Assuredly. My little younger sister had been sent by an
+agency three or four years ago to Mrs. Bellamy directly when
+she land in this country. She was quite inexperience’, you
+understand, and could not command a position such as one trained
+could demand; but Mrs. Bellamy was good to her and she work
+hard, and after a while she marries a young man who drives
+for the grocer and they——”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, quite so, Miss Cordier. My question was, how did
+Mrs. Bellamy happen to send you to Mrs. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, that is what I explain.” Miss Cordier, exquisitely
+unruffled, pursued the even tenor of her way. “Sometime when
+my sister was there with Mrs. Bellamy I would go out to
+show her what she should do. For me, I have been a waitress
+for eight years and am well experience’. Well, then I see Mrs.
+Bellamy and tell her that if some time she knows of a excellent
+position in that Rosemont, I would take it so that sometime
+I could see my little sister who is marrying that young man from
+the grocer’s. And about two years ago, maybe, she write to me
+to say that her friend Mrs. Patrick Ives she is looking for a
+extremely superior waitress. So that is how I go to Mrs. Ives.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you still in the employ of Mrs. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. On June twentieth I resign, since I am not quite
+content with something that have happen.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did this occurrence have anything to do with the death of
+Mrs. Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>“That I do not say. But I was not content.”</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Cordier, have you seen this book before? I call your
+attention to its title—<i>Stone on Commercial Paper</i>, Volume III.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cordier’s black eyes swept it perfunctorily. “Yes, that
+book I know.”</p>
+
+<p>“When did you last see it?”</p>
+
+<p>“The night of June nineteenth, about nine o’clock.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where?”</p>
+
+<p>“In the study of Mr. Ives.”</p>
+
+<p>“What particularly brought it to your attention?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because I take it out of the corner by the desk to look
+inside it.”</p>
+
+<p>“For what purpose?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because I want to see whether a note I put there that
+afternoon still was there.”</p>
+
+<p>“And was that note still there, Miss Cordier?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, monsieur, that note, it was gone.”</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor tossed the impressive volume carelessly on
+to the clerk’s desk. “I offer this volume in evidence, Your
+Honour.”</p>
+
+<p>“Any objections?” Judge Carver turned an inquiring eye on
+the bulky figure of Dudley Lambert, hovering uncertainly over
+the buckram-clad repository of correspondence.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert, shifting from one foot to the other, eyed
+the volume as though he were endeavouring to decide whether
+it were an infernal machine or a jewel casket, and with one
+final convulsive effort arrived at a conclusion: “No objection.”</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Cordier, to whom was the note that you placed in the
+book addressed?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was addressed to Mr. Patrick Ives.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was it written by you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah, no, no, monsieur.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you know by whom it was written?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, monsieur.”</p>
+
+<p>“By whom?”</p>
+
+<p>“By Mrs. Stephen Bellamy.”</p>
+
+<p>“And how did it happen that you were in possession of a note
+from Mrs. Bellamy to Mr. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was the habit of Mrs. Bellamy to mail to me letters that
+she desire’ to have reach Mr. Ives, without anyone should know.
+Outside there would be my name on the envelope; inside there
+would be a more small envelope with the name of Mr. Ives
+on it. That one I would put in the book.”</p>
+
+<p>“You had been doing this for some time?”</p>
+
+<p>“For some time, yes—six months—maybe eight.”</p>
+
+<p>“How many notes had you placed there, to the best of your
+recollection?”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah, that I am not quite sure—ten—twelve—twenty—who
+knows? At first once a month, maybe; that last month, two and
+three each week.”</p>
+
+<p>“At what time did you put the note there?”</p>
+
+<p>“Maybe fifteen minutes before seven, maybe twenty. After
+half-past six, I know, and not yet seven.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was that your usual habit?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no, monsieur; it was my habit to put them there in the
+night, when I make dark the house. Half-past six, that was
+a very bad time, because quite easily someone might see.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then why did you choose that time, Miss Cordier?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, but I do not choose. You see, it was like this: That
+night, when MacDonald, the chauffeur, bring in the letters
+a little bit after six, this one it was there for me, in a
+envelope that was write on it Urgent. On the little envelope
+inside it say Urgent—Very Urgent in letters with lines under them
+most black, and so I know that there is great haste that Mr.
+Patrick Ives he should get that letter quick. So I start
+to go to the study, but there in the hall is all those people who
+have come from the club, and Mrs. Ives she send me quick to
+get some <i>canapés</i>, and Mr. Dallas he come with me to show
+me what he want for the cocktails—limes and honey and all
+those thing, you know.” She looked appealingly at the
+prosecutor from the long black eyes and for a moment his tense
+countenance relaxed into a grim smile.</p>
+
+<p>“You were about to tell us why you placed the note there
+at that time.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; that is what I tell. Well, I wait and I wait for those
+people to go home, and still they do not go, but I dare not go
+in so long as across the hall from the study they all stay in that
+living room. But after a while I cannot wait any longer for
+fear that Mr. Patrick Ives should come and not find that most
+urgent note. So very quiet I slip in when I think no one look,
+and I put that note quick, quick in the book, and I start to come
+out in the hall; but when I get to the door I see there is
+someone in the hall and I step back again to wait till they are
+gone.”</p>
+
+<p>“And whom did you see in the hall, Miss Cordier?”</p>
+
+<p>“I see in the hall Mr. Elliot Farwell and Mrs. Patrick
+Ives.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did they see you?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cordier lifted eloquent shoulders. “How do I know,
+monsieur? Maybe they do, maybe they don’t—me, I cannot
+tell. I step back quick and listen, and after a while their voices
+stop and I hear a door close, and I come out quick through the
+hall and into the door to the kitchen without I see no one.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you hear what Mr. Farwell and Mrs. Ives were
+saying?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, that I could not hear even when I listen, so low they
+talk, so low that almost they whisper.”</p>
+
+<p>“You heard nothing else while you were there?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, monsieur. While I stand by the desk, but before I
+take out the book, I heard mademoiselle go through the hall
+with the children.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mademoiselle? Mademoiselle who?” The prosecutor’s voice
+was expressionless enough, but there was a prophetic shadow
+of annoyance in his narrowed eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Mademoiselle Page.”</p>
+
+<p>“You say that she was simply passing through the hall?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, monsieur—on her way to the stairs.”</p>
+
+<p>“You had not yet touched the book?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, monsieur.”</p>
+
+<p>“You waited until she passed before you did so?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was Mrs. Ives in the hall at the time that you placed the
+note in the book?”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah, that, too, I do not say. I say only that she was there
+one minute—one half minute after I have put it there.”</p>
+
+<p>“Could she have seen you place it in the book from the
+position in which you saw her standing?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is possible.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was she facing you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, monsieur; it is Mr. Farwell who face’ me. Mrs. Ives
+had the back toward me.”</p>
+
+<p>Again that shadow of fierce annoyance, turning the blue eyes
+almost black. “Then what makes you say that she might have
+seen you?”</p>
+
+<p>The dark eyes meeting his widened a trifle in something too
+tranquil for surprise—a mild, indolent wonder at the obtuseness
+of the human race in general, men in particular, and
+prosecutors more particularly still. “I say that because it might well
+be that in that little minute she have turn’ the back to me, or
+if she have not, then it might be that she see in the mirror.”</p>
+
+<p>“There was a mirror?”</p>
+
+<p>“But yes, on the other side of the hall from the study door
+there is a long, long chair—a what you call a bench—where the
+gentlemen they leave their hats. Over that there hangs the
+mirror. And it was by that bench that I see Mr. Farwell and
+Mrs. Ives.”</p>
+
+<p>“And the desk and the bookcase were reflected in the
+mirror?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, monsieur.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see. Now did you notice anything at dinner, Miss
+Cordier?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing at all; everything was as usual, of an entire
+serenity.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was at the usual hour?”</p>
+
+<p>“At quarter past seven—yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who was present?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Patrick Ives, Mrs. Daniel Ives, Mr. Ives, as usual.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you recall the conversation?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no, monsieur, I recall only that everyone talk as
+always about small things. It is my practice, like an experience’
+waitress, serious and discreet, to be little in the dining
+room—only when serving, you understand.” The serious and discreet
+waitress eyed her interrogator with a look of bland superiority.</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing struck you as unusual after dinner?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, no.”</p>
+
+<p>“You saw no one before you turned out the lights for the
+night?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, I have seen Mrs. Daniel Ives at that time, and
+she ask me whether Mrs. Ives have return, and I say no.”</p>
+
+<p>“No one else?”</p>
+
+<p>“Only the other domestics, monsieur. At a little past ten
+I retire’ for the night.”</p>
+
+<p>“You went to sleep immediately?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, monsieur.”</p>
+
+<p>“Breakfast was just as usual the next morning?”</p>
+
+<p>“As usual—yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“At what time?”</p>
+
+<p>“At nine, as on all Sundays. Mrs. Patrick Ives have hers at
+half-past nine, when she gets home from church.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing unusual in that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no; on the contrary, that is her habit.”</p>
+
+<p>“And after breakfast, nothing unusual occurred?”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not know whether you call it unusual, but after
+breakfast, yes, something occurred.”</p>
+
+<p>“Just tell us what it was, please.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cordier spent an interminable moment critically
+inspecting a pair of immaculate cream-coloured gloves before she
+decided to gratify this desire: “It was just so soon as Mr.
+Ives and his mother have finish’ breakfast, a few minutes
+before half-past nine. Mr. Ives he go directly to his study, and
+I go after him with the Sunday papers and before I go out I
+ask—because me, I am desirous to know—‘Mr. Ives, you have
+got that note all right what I put in the book?’ And he
+say——”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour, I object! I object! What Mr. Ives said——”</p>
+
+<p>This time there was no indecision whatever in the clamour set
+up by the long-suffering Lambert, and the prosecutor, eyeing
+him benevolently, raised a warning hand to his witness. “Never
+mind what he said, Miss Cordier. Just tell us what you said.”</p>
+
+<p>“I said, after he spoke, ‘Oh, Mr. Ives, then if you have not
+got it, it is Mrs. Ives who have found it. She have seen me put
+it in the book while she stood there in the hall.’ ”</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor waited for a well-considered moment to
+permit this conveniently revelatory reply to sink in. “It was after
+this conversation with Mr. Ives that you decided you would no
+longer remain with Mrs. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, monsieur, it was later in the morning that I decide
+that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Something occurred that made you decide it then?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cordier’s lacquer-red lips parted, closed, parted again.
+“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“What, Miss Cordier?”</p>
+
+<p>“At half-past eleven I have heard that Mrs. Bellamy have
+been killed.” The dark eyes slipped sidelong in the direction of
+the quiet young woman who had not so long since been her
+mistress. There she sat, leaning easily back in the straight,
+uncomfortable chair, ankles crossed, hands linked, studying
+the tips of her squarely cut little shoes with lowered eyes. The
+black eyes travelled from the edge of the kilted skirt to the
+edge of the small firm chin and then slid slowly back to the
+prosecutor: “When I heard that, I was not content, so I no
+longer stayed.”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly.” The prosecutor plunged his hands deep in his
+pockets and cocked a flagrantly triumphant eye at the agitated
+Lambert. “You no longer stayed. That will be all, Miss
+Cordier. Cross-examine.”</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Cordier, you knew perfectly that if for one second
+it came to Mrs. Ives’s attention that you had been acting as
+go-between in the alleged correspondence between her husband
+and Mrs. Bellamy you would not have remained five minutes
+under her roof, did you not?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cordier leaned a trifle farther over the edge of the
+witness box to meet the rough anger of Lambert’s voice,
+something ugly and insolent hardening the creamy mask of her
+face.</p>
+
+<p>“I know that when Mrs. Ives is angered she is quick to speak,
+quick to act—yes, monsieur.”</p>
+
+<p>At the fatal swiftness of that blow, the ruddy face before
+her sagged and paled, then rallied valiantly. “And so you
+decided that you had better leave before Mr. Ives questioned
+her about finding the note and you were turned out in disgrace,
+didn’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have said already, monsieur, that I leave because I have
+heard that Mrs. Bellamy have been murdered and I am not
+content.” The ominously soft voice pronounced each syllable
+with a lingering and deadly deliberation.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert eyed her savagely and moved heavily on:
+“You say that you were cut off from escaping through the hall
+by the fact that you saw that it was occupied by Mr. Farwell
+and Mrs. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“That is so.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why didn’t you go back through the dining room to the
+pantry?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because I hear Mr. Dallas and Mr. Burgoyne talking
+from the dining room, where they try one more cocktail.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why should they have thought it unusual to have you
+come from the study?”</p>
+
+<p>“I think it more prudent that no one should know I have
+been in that study.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were simply staying there in order to spy on Mrs.
+Ives, weren’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I could not help see Mrs. Ives unless I close’ my eyes.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert was obliged to swallow twice before he was
+able to continue:</p>
+
+<p>“Did you tell Mr. Ives that Mr. Farwell was in the hall
+also at the time that you saw Mrs. Ives there?”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not remember whether I tell him or whether I do
+not.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Farwell was facing you, was he not?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“What made you so sure that it was Mrs. Ives who took the
+note, not Mr. Farwell?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because, when I hear the door close, then I know that
+Mr. Farwell he has gone.”</p>
+
+<p>“And how did you know that?”</p>
+
+<p>Once more Miss Cordier raised eloquent shoulders. “Because,
+monsieur, I am not stupid. I look out, he is standing by the hat
+stand; I go back, I hear a door close, I look out once more, and
+he is not there. But that is of the most elementary.”</p>
+
+<p>“You should be a detective instead of wasting your time
+waiting on tables,” commented her courtly interrogator. “The
+plain truth is, isn’t it, that anyone in the house might have
+gone out and closed that door while Mr. Farwell went back to
+the living room with Mrs. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“If you say so, monsieur,” replied Miss Cordier indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>“And the plain truth is that Mr. Farwell was frantically
+infatuated with Mrs. Bellamy and was spying on her constantly,
+isn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is possible.”</p>
+
+<p>“Possible! Mr. Farwell himself stated it half a dozen times
+from this very witness box. It’s a plain fact. And another plain
+fact is that any one of a dozen other people might have passed
+through the hall and seen you at work, mightn’t they?”</p>
+
+<p>“I should not believe so—no, monsieur.”</p>
+
+<p>“Whether you believe it or not, it happens to be the truth.
+Six or eight servants, eight or ten guests—— What reason
+have you for believing that Miss Page herself did not notice
+something unusual in your attitude and turn back in time to
+see you place the note after you believed that she had passed?”</p>
+
+<p>“No reason, monsieur—only the evidence of all five of my
+senses.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are a highly talented young woman, Miss Cordier, but
+you can’t see with your back turned, can you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Monsieur is pleased to jest,” remarked Miss Cordier, in the
+tone of one frankly undiverted.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t characterize my questions, please—answer them.”</p>
+
+<p>“Willingly. I do not see with my back turn’.”</p>
+
+<p>“So it comes down to the fact that ten—twelve—fourteen
+people might have seen you place this urgent and mysterious
+note that you so boldly charge Mrs. Ives with taking, doesn’t
+it?”</p>
+
+<p>“That is monsieur’s opinion, not mine.”</p>
+
+<p>Monsieur glared menacingly at the not too subtle mockery
+adorning the witness’s pleasing countenance.</p>
+
+<p>“And furthermore, Miss Cordier, it comes down to the fact
+that we have only your word for it that the note was ever
+placed in the book at all, doesn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Monsieur does not find that sufficient?”</p>
+
+<p>Monsieur ignored the question, but his countenance testified
+eloquently that such was indeed the case.</p>
+
+<p>“Just how did you happen to select a book in Mr. Ives’s
+library as a hiding place for this correspondence?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because that is a good safe place, where every night he
+can look without anyone to watch.”</p>
+
+<p>“What made you think that someone else might not take out
+that book to read?”</p>
+
+<p>“That book? <i>Stone on Commercial Paper</i>, Volume III?
+Monsieur is pleased to jest!”</p>
+
+<p>Monsieur, scowling unattractively at some openly diverted
+members of the press, changed his line of attack with some
+abruptness. “Miss Cordier, you know a man called Adolph
+Platz, do you not?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cordier’s lashes flickered once—twice. “Of a
+certainty.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you see him in the afternoon of the nineteenth of
+June?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“How did you come to know him?”</p>
+
+<p>“He was for a time chauffeur to Mrs. Ives.”</p>
+
+<p>“Married, wasn’t he?”</p>
+
+<p>“Married, yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Platz was a chambermaid in Mrs. Ives’s employ?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“They left because Mrs. Platz quarrelled with you, did they
+not?”</p>
+
+<p>“One moment, please.” The prosecutor lifted an imperious
+voice. “Are we to be presented with an account of all the
+back-stairs quarrels, past and present, indulged in by Mrs.
+Ives’s domestics? To the best of my belief, my distinguished
+adversary is entering a field, however profitable and
+entertaining it may prove, that I have left totally virgin. Does the court
+hold this proper for cross-examination?”</p>
+
+<p>“The Court does not. The question is overruled.”</p>
+
+<p>“I ask an exception, Your Honour. . . . Miss Cordier, when
+you were turning out the lights that night, did you go into all
+the downstairs rooms?”</p>
+
+<p>“Into all of them—yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you see Mr. Patrick Ives in any of them?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, monsieur.”</p>
+
+<p>Sue Ives leaned forward with a swift gesture, a sudden
+wave of colour sweeping her from throat to brow. Mr. Lambert
+looked diligently away.</p>
+
+<p>“You have placed great stress on your skill, experience,
+and training as a waitress, Miss Cordier. Are you a waitress at
+present?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“Just what is your present occupation?”</p>
+
+<p>“At present I have no occupation. I rest.”</p>
+
+<p>“In the boarding house in Atlantic City where you have been
+occupied in resting for the past three or four months, you
+are not reposing under the name of Melanie Cordier, are you?”</p>
+
+<p>The black eyes darted toward the prosecutor, who stood
+leaning, shrewd and careless, over the back of a tilted chair.
+“Is it particularly germane to this inquiry whether Miss
+Cordier chooses to call herself Joan of Arc, if she wants to?” he
+inquired.</p>
+
+<p>“I propose to attack the credibility of this witness,” said
+Mr. Lambert unctuously. “I propose to prove by this witness,
+that while she is posing here as a correct young person and a
+model servant she is actually living a highly incorrect life as
+a supposedly married woman. . . . Miss Cordier, I ask you
+whether for the past three months you have not been passing
+as the wife of Adolph Platz, having persuaded him to
+abandon his own wife?”</p>
+
+<p>In the pale oval of her face the black eyes flamed and
+smoked. “And I tell you no, no, and again no, monsieur!”</p>
+
+<p>“You do not go under the name of Mrs. Adolph Platz?”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not persuade him to abandon that stupid doll, his
+wife. Long before I knew him, he was tired and sick of her.”</p>
+
+<p>“You do not go under the name of Mrs. Adolph Platz?”</p>
+
+<p>“That is most simple. Monsieur Platz he have been to me a
+excellent friend and adviser. When I explain to him that I am
+greatly in need of rest he suggest to me that a woman young,
+alone, and of not an entire lack of attraction would quite
+possibly find it more restful if the world should consider her
+married. So he is amiable enough to suggest that if it should
+assist me, I might for this small vacation use his name. It is only
+thing I have take from him, monsieur may rest assured.”</p>
+
+<p>“You remove a great weight from my mind,” Mr. Lambert
+assured her, horridly playful; “and from the minds of these
+twelve gentlemen as well, I am sure.” The twelve gentlemen,
+who had been following the lady’s simple and virtuous
+explanation of her somewhat unconventional conduct with startled
+attention, smiled for the first time in four days, shifting stiffly
+on their chairs and exchanging sidelong glances, skeptically
+jocose. “It is a pleasure to all of us to know that such chivalry
+as Mr. Platz has exhibited is not entirely extinct in this wicked
+workaday world. I hardly think that we can improve on your
+explanation as to why you are known in Atlantic City as Mrs.
+Adolph Platz, Miss Cordier. That will be all.”</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor, who did not seem unduly perturbed by these
+weighty flights of sarcasm, continued to lean on his chair, though
+he once more lifted his voice: “You had saved quite a sum of
+money during these past years, hadn’t you, Miss Cordier?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, monsieur.”</p>
+
+<p>“It proved ample for your modest needs on this long-planned
+and greatly needed vacation, did it not?”</p>
+
+<p>“More than ample—yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Platz had left his wife some time before these
+unhappy events caused you to leave Mrs. Ives, hadn’t he?”</p>
+
+<p>“Of a surety, monsieur.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s all, thank you, Miss Cordier.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cordier moved leisurely from the stand, chic and poised
+as ever, disdaining even a glance at the highly gratified
+Lambert, and bestowing the briefest of smiles on Mr. Farr, who
+responded even more briefly. Many a lady, trailing sable and
+brocade from an opera box, has moved with less assurance and
+grace than Mrs. Ives’s one-time waitress, the temporary Mrs.
+Adolph Platz. The eyes of the courtroom, perplexed, diverted,
+and faintly disturbed, followed her balanced and orderly
+retreat, the scarlet camellia defiant as a little flag.</p>
+
+<p>“Call Miss Roberts.”</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Laura Roberts!”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Laura Roberts also wore black, but she wore her
+black with a difference. A decent, sober, respectful apparel for
+a decent, sober, respectful little person—Miss Roberts, comely,
+rosy-faced, gray-eyed, fawn-haired and soft-voiced, had all the
+surface qualifications of an ideal maid, and she obviously
+considered that those qualifications did not include scarlet lips and
+scarlet flowers. Under the neat black hat her eyes met the
+prosecutor’s shyly and bravely.</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Roberts, what was your occupation on June nineteenth,
+1926?”</p>
+
+<p>“I was maid and seamstress to Mrs. Patrick Ives, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>The pretty English voice, with its neat, clipped accent, fell
+pleasantly and reassuringly on the ears of the courtroom, which
+relaxed with unfeigned relief from the tensity into which her
+Gallic colleague had managed to plunge it during her tenure
+of the witness box.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you see Mrs. Ives on the evening of the nineteenth?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not after dinner—no, sir. I asked her before dinner if it
+would be quite all right for cook and me to go down to the
+village to church that night, and she said quite, and not to
+bother about getting home early, because she wouldn’t be
+needing me again. So after church we met two young
+gentlemen that we knew and went across to the drug store and had
+some ices, and sat talking a bit before we walked home, so
+that it was well on to eleven when we got in, and all the lights
+were out except the one in the kitchen, so I knew that Mrs.
+Ives was in bed.”</p>
+
+<p>“What time did you leave the house for church, Miss
+Roberts?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I couldn’t exactly swear to it, sir, but it must have
+been around half-past eight; because service was at nine, and
+it’s a good bit of a walk, and I do remember hurrying with
+dinner so that I could turn down the beds and be off.”</p>
+
+<p>“Were you chambermaid in the household as well as
+seamstress-maid?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no, sir; only it was the chambermaid’s night off, you
+see, and then it was my place to do it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see. So on this night you turned down all the beds before
+eight-thirty?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir—all but Miss Page’s, that is.”</p>
+
+<p>“That wasn’t included in your duties?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, sir, it was. But that night when I got to the day
+nurse’s door it was locked, and when I knocked, no one didn’t
+answer at first, and then Miss Page called out that she had a
+headache and had gone to bed already——”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Roberts hesitated and looked down at the prosecutor
+with honest, troubled eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing extraordinary about that, was there?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, yes, sir, there was. You see, when I was coming down
+the hall I heard what I thought were voices coming out of those
+rooms, and crying, and I was afraid that the little girl was
+having more trouble with her ear. That’s why I started to go in
+without knocking, but after I’d been standing there a minute,
+I heard that it was Miss Page crying herself, fit to break her
+heart. I never heard anyone cry so dreadful in all my life. It
+fairly gave me a turn, but the moment I knocked there wasn’t
+a sound, and then after a minute she called out that she
+wouldn’t need me, just as I told you, sir. So I went on my way,
+of course, though I was still a bit worried. She’d been crying so
+dreadful, poor thing, that I was afraid she would be right
+down sick.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, quite so. Very much upset, as though she’d been
+through an agitating experience?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, indeed, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were mistaken about the voices weren’t you? It was
+just Miss Page crying?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir—I thought I heard voices, too.” The soft voice was
+barely audible.</p>
+
+<p>“The little girl’s?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir. It sounded—it sounded like Mr. Ives.”</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor stared at her blankly.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Patrick Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“You could hear what he was saying?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir, I couldn’t; it stopped as soon as I tried the door.
+I thought he was talking to the little girl.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Farr continued to contemplate her blankly for a
+moment, and then, with an eloquent shrug of the shoulders,
+dismissed Mr. Ives, Miss Page, and the locked door for more
+fruitful pastures.</p>
+
+<p>“Now, Miss Roberts, your duties included the care of your
+mistress’s wardrobe, did they not?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are quite familiar with all its contents?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, quite.”</p>
+
+<p>“Will you be good enough to tell us if it contains to-day all
+the articles that it contained on the nineteenth of June, 1926?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir, it doesn’t. Mrs. Ives gives away a lot of her things
+at the end of every season. We sent a big box off to a sick
+cousin she has in Arizona, and another to some young ladies
+in Delaware, and another to the——”</p>
+
+<p>“Never mind about the things that you sent at the end of
+the season. Did you send anything at about the time of the
+murder—within a few weeks of it, say?”</p>
+
+<p>The roses in Miss Roberts’s cheeks faded abruptly, and the
+candid eyes fled precipitately to the chair where Susan Ives
+sat, playing idly with the crystal clasp of her brown suède
+bag. At the warm, friendly, reassuring little smile that she
+found waiting for her, Miss Roberts apparently found heart
+of grace. “Yes, sir, we did,” she said steadily.</p>
+
+<p>“On what date, please?”</p>
+
+<p>“On the twentieth of June.”</p>
+
+<p>The courtroom drew in its breath sharply—a little sigh for
+its lost ease—and moved forward the inch that separated
+suspense from polite attention.</p>
+
+<p>“To whom was the package sent?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was sent to the Salvation Army.”</p>
+
+<p>“What was in it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, there were two old sweaters and a swiss dress that
+had shrunk quite small, and a wrapper, and some blouses and a
+coat.”</p>
+
+<p>“What kind of a coat, Miss Roberts?”</p>
+
+<p>“A light flannel coat—a kind of sports coat, you might call
+it,” said Miss Roberts clearly; but those who craned forward
+sharply enough could see the knuckles whiten on the small,
+square, capable hands.</p>
+
+<p>“Cream-coloured flannel?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, more of a biscuit, I’d call it,” replied Mrs. Ives’s
+maid judicially.</p>
+
+<p>“The coat that Mrs. Ives had been wearing the evening
+before, wasn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I believe it was, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you see the condition of this coat before you packed
+it, Miss Roberts?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir, I didn’t. It wasn’t I that packed it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not you? Who did pack it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Ives packed it herself.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah, I see.” In that sudden white light of triumph the
+prosecutor’s face was almost beautiful—a cruel and sinister
+beauty, such as might have lighted the face of the youngest
+Spanish Inquisitionist as the stray shot of a question went
+straight to the enemy’s heart. “It was Mrs. Ives who packed it.
+How did it come into your hands, Miss Roberts?”</p>
+
+<p>“The package, sir?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly, the package.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was this way, sir: A little before eight Sunday morning
+Mrs. Ives’s bell rang and I went down to her room. She was
+all dressed for church, and there was a big box on her bed.
+She said, ‘I rang for you before, Roberts, but you were
+probably at breakfast. Take this down to MacDonald and tell him
+to mail it when he gets the papers. The post office closes at
+half-past nine.’ ”</p>
+
+<p>“Was that all that she said?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no, sir. She asked me for some fresh gloves, and then
+she said over her shoulder like as she was going out, ‘It’s those
+things that I was getting together for the Salvation Army. I
+put in the coat I was wearing last night too. I absolutely ruined
+it with some automobile grease on Mr. Bellamy’s car.’ ”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing more?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, then I said, ‘Oh, madam, couldn’t it be cleaned?’
+And Mrs. Ives said, ‘It isn’t worth cleaning; this is the third
+year I’ve had it.’ Then she went out, sir, and I took it down
+and gave it to MacDonald.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was it addressed?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“How?”</p>
+
+<p>“Just Salvation Army Headquarters, New York, N. Y.”</p>
+
+<p>“No address in the corner as to whom it came from?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no, sir. Mrs. Ives never——”</p>
+
+<p>“Be good enough to confine yourself to the question. You
+are not aware, yourself, of the exact nature of these stains, are
+you, Miss Roberts?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir, I am,” said the pink-cheeked Miss Roberts firmly.
+“They were grease stains.”</p>
+
+<p>“What?” The prosecutor’s startled voice skipped half an
+octave. “Didn’t you distinctly tell me that you didn’t see this
+coat?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir, no more I did. It was Mrs. Ives that told me
+they were grease stains.”</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor indulged in a brief bark of mirth that
+indicated more relief than amusement. “Then, as I say, you are
+unable to tell us of your own knowledge?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir,” replied Miss Roberts, a trifle pinker and a trifle
+firmer. “Mrs. Ives told me that those stains were grease stains,
+so I’m certainly able to say of my own knowledge that it was
+absolutely true if she said so.”</p>
+
+<p>There was something in the soft, sturdy voice that made
+the grimy courtroom a pleasanter place. Sue Ives’s careless
+serenity flashed suddenly to that of a delighted child; Stephen
+Bellamy’s fine, grave face warmed and lightened; the shadows
+lifted for a moment from Pat Ives’s haunted eyes; there was a
+grateful murmur from the press, a friendly stir in the jury. The
+quiet-eyed, soft-voiced, stubborn little Miss Roberts was
+undoubtedly the heroine of the moment.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Farr, however, was obviously unmoved by this
+exhibition of devotion and loyalty. He permitted more than a trace
+of annoyance to penetrate his clear, metallic voice. “That’s all
+very pretty and touching, naturally, Miss Roberts, but from a
+crudely legal standpoint we are forced to realize that your
+statement as to the nature of the stains has no weight whatever.
+It is a fact, is it not, that you never laid eyes on the stained coat
+that Mrs. Ives sent out of her house within a few hours of the
+time that this murder was committed?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir, that is a fact.”</p>
+
+<p>“No further questions, Miss Roberts. Cross-examine.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is a fact, too, that Mrs. Ives frequently sent packages in
+just this way, isn’t it, Miss Roberts?” inquired Mr. Lambert
+mellifluously.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, indeed, she did—often and often.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was she in the habit of putting her address on packages sent
+to charitable institutions?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir. She didn’t want to be thanked for her
+charities—not ever.”</p>
+
+<p>“Precisely. That’s all, Miss Roberts—thanks.”</p>
+
+<p>“Call Orsini.”</p>
+
+<p>“Loo-weegee Aw-see-nee!”</p>
+
+<p>Luigi Orsini glanced darkly at Ben Potts as he mounted the
+witness stand, and Mr. Potts returned the glance with Nordic
+severity.</p>
+
+<p>“What was your occupation on June 19, 1926, Orsini?”</p>
+
+<p>“I work for Miz’ Bell’my.”</p>
+
+<p>“In what capacity?”</p>
+
+<p>“What you say?”</p>
+
+<p>“What was your job?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am what you call handy—do everything there is to
+do.”</p>
+
+<p>The spacious gesture implied Gargantuan labours and
+super-human abilities. A small, thick, stocky individual, swarthy and
+pompadoured, with lustrous eyes, a glittering smile, and a
+magnificent barytone voice, he suggested without any effort
+whatever infinite possibilities in the rôle of either tragedian or
+comedian. The redoubtable Farr eyed him with a trace of
+well-justified apprehension.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, suppose you tell us what your principal activities
+were on the nineteenth of June.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah, well, that day me, I am very active, like per usual. At
+six o’clock I arise and after some small breakfast I take
+extra-fine strong wire and some very long sticks——”</p>
+
+<p>“No, no, you can skip all that. You heard Mr. Farwell’s
+testimony, didn’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“For sure I hear that testimony.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was it correct that he stopped around noon at the
+Bellamys’ and asked for Mrs. Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>“All correct, O. K.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did he tell you where he was going?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sair, he then he say he get her at that cottage.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing else?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not one other thing else.”</p>
+
+<p>“You didn’t see him again?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, no; I do not see him again evair.”</p>
+
+<p>“When did you last see Mrs. Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is about eight in the evening—maybe five minute before,
+maybe five minute after.”</p>
+
+<p>“How do you fix the time?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have look at my watch—this watch you now see, which
+is a good instrument of entirely pure silver, but not always
+faithful.”</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor waved away the bulky shining object dangled
+enticingly before his eyes with a gesture of almost ferocious
+impatience. “Never mind about that. Why did you consult
+your watch?”</p>
+
+<p>The owner of the magnificent but unfaithful instrument
+swelled darkly for a moment, but continued to dangle his
+treasure. “That you shall hear—patience. I produce the instrument
+at this time so that you note that while the clock over the door
+it say twenty minutes before the hour, this watch it say nine
+minute—or maybe eight. You judge for yourself. It is without
+a doubt eccentric. But on that night still I have consult it to see
+if I go to New York at eight-twenty. I wait to decide still
+when I see Mrs. Bell’my run down the front steps and come
+down to the gate where I stand.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did she speak to you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, positive. She ask, ‘What, Luigi, you do not go to New
+York?’ ”</p>
+
+<p>“How did she know that you were going to New York?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because already before dinner I have ask permission from
+Mr. Bell’my if I can go to New York that evening to see a
+young lady from Milan that I think perhaps I marry, maybe.
+Miz’ Bell’my she is in the next room and she laugh and call
+out, ‘You tell Marietta that if she get you, one day she will
+find herself marry to the President of these United State’.’ I
+excuse myself for what may seem like a boast, but those are the
+words she use.”</p>
+
+<p>And suddenly, as though he found the memory of that gay,
+mocking young voice floating across the heavy air of the
+courtroom more unbearable than all the blood and shame and horror
+that had invaded it, Stephen Bellamy’s face twisted to a
+tortured grimace and he lifted an unsteady hand to lowered eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Look!” came a penetrating whisper. “He’s crying, ain’t he?
+Ain’t he, Gertie?”</p>
+
+<p>And the red-headed girl lowered her own eyes swiftly, a
+shamed and guilty flush reaching to the roots of her hair. How
+ugly, how contemptible, one’s thoughts could sound in words!</p>
+
+<p>“What reply did you make to Mrs. Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>“I tell to her that I think maybe I had better not go, as that
+afternoon I have invest my money in a small game of chance
+with the gardener next door and the investment it have prove’
+unsound. I say that how if I go to New York to see my young
+lady, it is likely that I must request of her the money to return
+back to Rosemont—and me, who am proud, I find that
+indelicate. So Miz’ Bell’my she laugh out and look quick in the
+little bag that she carry and give me three dollar’—to make
+the course of true love run more smooth, she say—and then she
+call back over her shoulder, ‘Better hurry, Luigi, or you miss
+that train.’ So I hurry, but all the same I miss it—by two small
+minute, because, chiefly, this watch he is too eccentric.”</p>
+
+<p>In spite of its eccentricity, he returned it tenderly to his vest
+pocket, after a final flip in the direction of the harassed Farr
+and the enraptured audience.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you notice anything else in the bag when Mrs. Bellamy
+opened it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, positive. The eyes of Luigi they miss nothing what there
+is to see. All things they observe. In that bag of Miz’ Bell’my
+there are stuff, stuff in two, three letters—I dunno for
+sure—maybe four. But they make that small little bag bulge out
+so—very tight, like that.” Mr. Orsini’s eloquent hands sketched
+complete rotundity.</p>
+
+<p>“You never saw Mrs. Bellamy again?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not evair—no, no more—not evair.”</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the warm blood under the swarthy Southern
+skin seemed to run more slowly and coldly; but after a hasty
+glance at the safe, reassuring autumn sunlight slanting across
+the crowded room, the colour flowed boldly back to cheek and
+lip.</p>
+
+<p>“You say that you missed the train to New York. What
+did you do then?”</p>
+
+<p>“Then I curse myself good all up and down for a fool that
+is a fool all right, and I go back to my room in the garage and
+get into my bed and begin to read a story in a magazine that
+call itself <i>Honest Confession</i> about a bride what——”</p>
+
+<p>“Never mind what you were reading. Did you notice
+anything unusual on your return?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, maybe you don’t call it nothing unusual, but I notice
+that the car of Mr. Bell’my it is no longer in the garage. That
+make me surprise’ for a minute, because I have heard Mr.
+Bell’my tell Nellie, the house girl, that it is all right for her
+to go home early to her mother, where she sleep, because he will
+be there to answer the telephone if it should ring. But all the
+same, I go on to bed. I just think he change his mind, maybe.”</p>
+
+<p>“What time did you get back to the garage?”</p>
+
+<p>“At twenty-two minutes before nine I am in my room. That
+I verify by the alarm clock that repose on the top of my
+bureau, and which is of an entire reliability; I note it expressly,
+because I am enrage’ that I have miss’ that train by so small
+an amount.”</p>
+
+<p>“Orsini, do you know what kind of tires Mr. Bellamy was
+using on his car?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sair, that, too, I know. There are three old tires of
+what they call Royal Cord make—two on back and one on
+front. On the left front one is a good new Silvertown Cord,
+what I help him to change about a month before all these
+things have happen. For spare, he carry a all new Ajax. And
+that is all there is.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re perfectly sure that the Ajax wasn’t on?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, surest thing.”</p>
+
+<p>“When did you last see the car?”</p>
+
+<p>“When I go down to the gate, round half-past seven.”</p>
+
+<p>“And the Ajax was still on as a spare?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s what.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you see Mr. Bellamy again on the evening of the
+nineteenth?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, that evening I have seen Mr. Bell’my again.”</p>
+
+<p>“At what time?”</p>
+
+<p>“At five before ten.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was he alone?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; with him there was a lady.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you recognize her?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sair, I have recognize’ her.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who was this lady, Orsini?”</p>
+
+<p>“This lady, sair, was Miz’ Patrick Ives.”</p>
+
+<p>At those words, pronounced with exactly their proper
+dramatic inflection by that lover of the drama, Mr. Luigi Orsini,
+every head in the courtroom pivoted to the spot where Mrs.
+Patrick Ives sat with the autumn sun warming her hair to
+something better than gold. And quite oblivious to the ominous
+inquiry in those straining eyes, she turned toward Stephen
+Bellamy, meeting his startled eyes with a small, rueful smile,
+lifted brows and a little shake of the head that came as
+near to saying “I told you so” as good sportsmanship
+permitted.</p>
+
+<p>“You are quite positive of that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, without one single doubt.”</p>
+
+<p>“How were you able to identify her?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because I hear her voice, as clear as I hear you, and I see
+her clear as I see you too.”</p>
+
+<p>“How were you able to do that?”</p>
+
+<p>“By the lights of Mr. Bell’my’s car, when she get out and
+look up at my window, where I stand and look out.”</p>
+
+<p>“Tell us just how you came to be standing there looking
+out, please.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, after a while, I began to get sleepy over that
+magazine, and I look at the clock and it say ten minutes to ten,
+and I think, ‘Luigi, my fine fellow, to-morrow you rise at
+six to do the work that lies before you, and at present it is well
+that you should sleep.’ So I arise to turn out the light, which
+switch is by the window, and just when I get there to do that
+I hear a auto car turn in at the gate. I think, ‘Ah-ha! There
+now comes Mr. Bell’my.’ And then I look out of that window,
+for I am surprise’. It is the habit of Mr. Bell’my to put away
+that car so soon as he come in, but this time he don’t do that.
+He stop in front of the house and he help out a lady. She
+stand there looking up at my window, and I see her clear like it
+is day, but it is all dark inside, so she can see nothing. Then she
+say, ‘I still could swear that I have seen a light,’ and Mr.
+Bell’my he say, ‘Sue, don’t let this get you. I tell you that there
+is no one here—I saw him headed for the train. Maybe perhaps
+it was the shine from our own lamps what you see. Come on.’
+And she say, ‘Maybe; but I could swear——’ And then I don’t
+hear any more, because they go into the house, and me, I stand
+there like one paralyze’, because always I have believe Mr.
+Bell’my to be a man of honour who love——”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes—never mind that. Did you see them come out?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, that I see, too. In five-ten minutes they come out and
+get quick into the car, and drive away without they say one
+word. They start off very fast, so that the car it jump.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you know at what time Mr. Bellamy returned that
+night?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; because then I wake only half up from sleep when I
+hear him drive that car into the garage, and I do not turn to
+look at the clock.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was some time later?”</p>
+
+<p>“Some time—yes. But whether one hour—three hours—five
+hours, that I cannot say. What I am not sure of like my life,
+that I do not say.”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly; very commendable. That’s all, thanks.
+Cross-examine.”</p>
+
+<p>Orsini wheeled his lustrous orbs in the direction of Mr.
+Lambert, whose ruddy countenance had assumed an
+expression of intense inhospitality, though he managed to inject an
+ominous suavity into his ample voice. “With those vigilant and
+all-seeing eyes of yours, Mr.—er—Mr. Orsini, were you able
+to note the garments that Mrs. Bellamy was wearing when she
+went past you at the gate?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, positive. A white dress, all fluffy, and a black cape,
+quite thin, so that almost you see through it—not quite, maybe,
+but almost.”</p>
+
+<p>“Any hat?”</p>
+
+<p>“On the head a small black scarf that she have wrap’ also
+around her neck, twice or mebbe three time. The eyes of
+Luigi——”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly. Could you see whether she had on her jewels?”</p>
+
+<p>“Positive. Always like that in the evening, moreover, she
+wear her jewels.”</p>
+
+<p>“You noticed what they were?”</p>
+
+<p>“Same like always—same necklace out of pearls, same rings,
+diamond and sapphire, two on one hand, one the other—I see
+them when she open that bag.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Bellamy was a person of moderate means, wasn’t he, as
+far as you know?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, everybody what there is around here knows he wasn’t
+no John P. Rockfeller, I guess.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you believe that the stones were genuine?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Orsini, thus appealed to as an expert, waxed eloquent
+and expansive. “Oh, positive. That I know for one absolute
+sure thing.”</p>
+
+<p>“Tell us just how, won’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that house girl, Nellie, one night she tell me that
+Miz’ Bell’my have left one of her rings at the club where she
+wash her hands, but that Miz’ Bell’my just laugh and say
+she should worry herself, because all those rings and her pearls
+they are insure big, and if she lose those, she go out and buy
+herself a new house and a auto car, and maybe a police dog
+too.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see. Had it ever occurred to you that Mrs. Bellamy was
+using the cottage at Orchards for other purposes than piano
+practice, Mr. Orsini?”</p>
+
+<p>Orsini’s smile flashed so generously that it revealed three
+really extravagant gold fillings. “Well, me, I don’t miss many
+things, maybe you guess. After she get that key three-four times,
+I think to myself, ‘Luigi, it is funny thing that nevair she give
+you back that key until the day after, and always those evenings
+she go out by herself—most generally when Mr. Bell’my he stay
+in town to work.’ So one of those nights when she ask for
+that key I permit myself to take a small little stroll up the
+road in Orchards, and sure thing, there is a light in that cottage
+and a auto car outside the door. Sufficient! I look no further.
+Me, I am a man of the world, you comprehend.”</p>
+
+<p>“Obviously.”</p>
+
+<p>“Just a moment, Mr. Lambert,” interrupted Judge Carver.
+“Is your cross-examination going to take some time?”</p>
+
+<p>“Quite a time, I believe, Your Honour.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then I think it best that we adjourn for the noon recess,
+as it is already after twelve. The Court stands adjourned until
+one-ten.”</p>
+
+<hr>
+
+<p>“Well, here’s where we get our comic relief,” said the
+reporter with unction. “That son of sunny Italy is going to give
+us an enviable imitation of a three-ringed circus and a bag of
+monkeys before he and Lambert get through with each other, or
+I miss my guess. He’s got a look in his eye that is worth the
+price of admission alone. What’s your mature opinion of him?”</p>
+
+<p>“I think that he’s beguiling,” said the red-headed girl
+somewhat listlessly. Little shadows were under her gray eyes, and
+she curled small limp paws about a neglected notebook.
+Something in the drooping shoulders under the efficient jacket
+suggested an exhausted baby in need of a crib and a bottle of hot
+milk and a firm and friendly tucking in. She made a
+half-hearted effort to overtake an enormous yawn that was about to
+engulf her, and then surrendered plaintively.</p>
+
+<p>“Bored?” inquired the real reporter, his countenance
+illuminated by an expression of agreeable surprise.</p>
+
+<p>“Bored?” cried the lady beside him in a voice at once
+scornful and outraged. “Bored? I’m half destroyed with excitement.
+I can’t sleep any more. I go back to the boarding house every
+night and sit up in front of a gas stove with an
+orange-and-magenta comforter over my shoulders that ought to warm the
+dead, writing up my notes until all hours; and then I put a
+purple comforter over my knees and a muffler over my nose,
+and get an apple and sit there alternately gnawing the apple
+and my fingers and trying to work out who did it until even
+the cats stop singing under my window and the sky begins to
+get that nice, appealing slate colour that’s so prettily referred
+to as dawn. And even then I don’t know who did it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t you, indeed?” inquired the reporter severely, looking
+irritated and anxious. “Haven’t you any sense at all, you little
+idiot? Listen, I know a place just two blocks down where you
+can get some fairly decent hot soup. You go and drink about a
+quart of it and then trot along home and turn in, and I’ll do
+your notes for you to-night so well that your boss will double
+your salary in the morning—and if you’re very good and sleep
+eighteen hours, I may tell you who did the murder.”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl, who had shuddered fastidiously at the
+offer of fairly decent soup, eyed him ungratefully as she
+extracted a packet of salted peanuts from the capacious pouch
+that served her as handbag, commissary, and dressing table.</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you kindly,” she said. “My boss wrote me two
+special-delivery letters yesterday to say that I was doing far the
+best stuff that was coming up out of Redfield—far. He said
+that the three clippings that I sent him of your stuff showed
+promise—he did, honestly. . . . I think that soup’s terrible,
+and this is the first time in my life that I’ve been able to stay
+up as late as I pleased without anyone sending me to bed. I’m
+mad about it. . . . Have some peanuts?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, thanks,” said the reporter, rising abruptly. “Anything I
+can get you outside?”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re cross!” wailed the red-headed girl, her eyes round
+with panic and contrition. “You are—you are—you’re absolutely
+furious. Wait, please—please, or I’ll hang on to your coat tails
+and make a scene. The real reason I don’t go out and get soup
+is because I don’t dare. If I went away even for a minute,
+something might happen, and then I wouldn’t ever sleep again.
+Someone might get my seat—didn’t you see that fat, sinful-looking
+old lady who got the <i>Gazette</i> girl’s place yesterday? She
+wouldn’t go even when three officers and the sheriff told her
+she had to, and the <i>Gazette</i> girl had to sit on a stool in the
+gallery, and she said she had such a rushing of rage in her ears
+that she couldn’t hear anything that anyone said all afternoon.
+So, you see—— And I would like a ham sandwich and I think
+that you write better than Conrad, and I apologize, and if
+you’ll tell me who did the murder, I’ll tell you. And please
+hurry, because I hope you won’t be gone long.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re a nice little nut,” said the reporter, and he beamed
+on her forgivingly, “and I like you. I like the way your nose
+turns up and your mouth turns down, and I like that funny
+little hat you wear. . . . I’ll make it in two jumps. Watch
+me!”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl watched him obediently, her face pink
+and her eyes bright under the funny little hat. When the door
+opened to let him out, she plunged her eyes apprehensively for
+a moment into the silent, pushing, heaving mob behind the
+policeman’s broad blue shoulders, shivered, and turned them
+resolutely away.</p>
+
+<p>“If I were convicted of murder to-morrow,” thought the
+red-headed girl passionately, “they’d shove just like that to see
+me hanged. Ugh! What’s the matter with us?”</p>
+
+<p>She eyed with an expression of profound distaste the plump
+lady just beyond her, conscientiously eating stuffed eggs out of
+a shoe box. So smug, so virtuous, so pompadoured and
+lynx-eyed—— Her eyes moved hastily on to the pair of giggling
+flappers exchanging powder puffs and anecdotes over a box of
+maple caramels; on to the round-shouldered youth with the
+unattractive complexion and unpleasant tie; on to the pretty
+thing with overflushed cheeks and overbright eyes above her
+sable scarf and beneath her Paris hat. The red-headed girl
+wrenched her eyes back to the empty space where there sat,
+tranquil and aloof, the memory of the prisoner at the bar.</p>
+
+<p>It was good to be able to forget those hot, hungry, cruel faces,
+so sleek and safe and triumphant, and to remember that other
+face under the shadow of the small felt hat, cool and
+controlled and gay—yes, gay, for all the shadows that beset it.
+Only—what thoughts were weaving behind that bright brow,
+those steady lips? Thoughts of terror, of remorse, of
+bitterness and horror and despair? If you were strong enough
+to strike down a laughing girl who barred your path, you
+would be strong enough to keep your lips steady, wouldn’t
+you?</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl stared about her wildly; she felt
+suddenly small and cold and terrified. Where was the reporter?
+What a long time—— Oh, someone had opened a window.
+It was only the wind of autumn that was blowing so cold
+then, not the wind of death. What was it those little
+newsboys were calling outside, yelping like puppies in the gray
+square?</p>
+
+<p>“Extra Extra! All about the mysterious——”</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” said the reporter’s voice at her elbow, tense with
+some suppressed excitement, “this is the time he did it! No
+enterprising Filipino and housemaid around this time. Read that
+and weep!”</p>
+
+<p>Across the flimsy sheet of the Redfield <i>Home News</i> it ran
+in letters three inches high: Ex-fiancé of Murdered Girl Blows
+Out Brains. Prominent Clubman Found Dead in Garden at
+Eleven Forty-five This Morning.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve got a peach of a story started over the wires this
+minute,” said the reporter exultantly. “Here, boy, rush this stuff
+and beat it back for more. I couldn’t get your sandwich.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” said the red-headed girl in a small awed voice—“well,
+then, that means that he did it himself, doesn’t it? That
+means that he couldn’t stand it any longer because he killed
+her, doesn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Or it means that he good and damn well knew that Susan
+Ives did it,” muttered the reporter, shaken from Olympian
+calm to frenzied activity. “Here, boy! Boy! Hi, you, rush
+this—and take off the ear muffs. It’s a hundred-to-one bet that
+he knew that Sue’d done it, and that he’d as good as put the
+knife in her hand by telling her where, when, and why it
+should be managed. . . . Here, boy!”</p>
+
+<p>“He didn’t!” said the red-headed girl fiercely. “He didn’t
+know it. How could——”</p>
+
+<p>“The Court!” sang Ben Potts.</p>
+
+<p>“How could he know whether she——”</p>
+
+<p>“Silence!” intoned Ben reprovingly.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Orsini and Mr. Lambert were both heading
+purposefully for the witness box.</p>
+
+<p>“Now you’ve just told us, Mr. Orsini, that you were able
+to see Mrs. Ives’s face when you looked down from your
+window in the garage as clearly as you see mine. Can you
+give us an idea of the approximate distance from the garage
+to the house?”</p>
+
+<p>“Positive. The distance from the middle of the garage door
+to the middle of the front porch step, it is”—he glanced
+earnestly at a small slip of paper hitherto concealed in one massive
+paw, and divulged a portion of its contents to his astounded
+interrogator—“it is forty-seven feet five inches and one half
+inch.”</p>
+
+<p>“What?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Orsini contemplated with pardonable gratification the
+unfeigned stupor that adorned the massive countenance now
+thrust incredulously forward. “Also I can now tell you the
+space between the front gate and the door—one hunnerd
+forty-three feet and a quarter of a inch,” he announced rapidly and
+benevolently. “Also from the fence out to the road—eleven
+feet nine inch and a——”</p>
+
+<p>Judge Carver’s gavel fell with a crash over the enraptured
+roar that swept the courtroom. “One more demonstration of
+this kind and I clear the Court. This is a trial for murder,
+not a burlesque performance. You, sir, answer the questions
+that are put to you, when they are put. What’s that object in
+your hand?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Orsini dangled the limp yellow article hopefully under
+the judge’s fine nose. “The instrument with which I make the
+measure,” he explained, all modest pride. “What you call a
+measure of tape. The card on which I make the notes as well.”</p>
+
+<p>Judge Carver schooled his momentarily shaken countenance
+to its customary rigidity and turned a lion tamer’s eye on
+the smothered hilarity of the press. The demoralized Lambert
+pulled himself together with a mighty effort; a junior counsel
+emitted a convulsive snort; only Mr. Farr remained entirely
+unmoved. Pensive, nonchalant and mildly sardonic, he bestowed
+a perfunctory glance on the measure of tape and returned to a
+critical perusal of some notes of his own, which he had been
+studying intently since he had surrendered his witness to his
+adversary. The adversary, his eyes still bulging, returned
+once more to the charge.</p>
+
+<p>“May I ask you what caused you to burden yourself with
+this invaluable mass of information?”</p>
+
+<p>“Surest thing you may ask. I do it because me, I am well
+familiar with the questions what all smart high-grade lawyers
+put when in the court—like, could you then tell us how high
+were those steps, and how many were those minutes, and
+how far were those walls—all things like that they like to
+go and ask, every time, sure like shooting.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see. A careful student of our little eccentricities. How
+has it happened that your crowded life has afforded you the
+leisure to make so exhaustive a study of our habits?”</p>
+
+<p>“Once again, more slow?” suggested the student affably.</p>
+
+<p>“How have you happened to become so familiar with court
+life?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, me, I am not so familiar with it as that. Once-twice—that
+is enough for one who know how to use his eyes and
+ear—more is not necessary.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, as you say, once or twice ought to be enough; it’s
+a pity that you’ve found it necessary to extend your experience.
+Orsini, have you ever been in jail?”</p>
+
+<p>“Who—me?” The glittering smile with which Mr. Orsini
+was in the habit of decorating his periods was not completely
+withdrawn, but it became slightly more reticent. His lambent
+eyes roved reproachfully in the direction of Mr. Farr, who
+seemed more absorbed than ever in his notes. “In what kind of
+a jail you mean?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert looked obviously disconcerted. “I mean
+jail—any kind of a jail.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was it up on a hill, perhaps, this jail?” inquired his victim
+helpfully.</p>
+
+<p>“On a hill? What’s that got to do with it? How should I
+know whether it was on a hill?”</p>
+
+<p>“A high hill, mebbe, with trees all about it?” Once more
+Orsini’s hands were eloquent.</p>
+
+<p>“All right, all right, were you ever in a jail on a hill with
+trees around it?”</p>
+
+<p>Orsini gazed blandly into the irate and contemptuous
+countenance thrust toward him. “No, sair,” he replied regretfully.
+“If that jail was up on a hill with trees around it, then I was
+not in that jail.”</p>
+
+<p>Once more the courtroom, reckless of the gavel, yielded
+to helpless and hilarious uproar, and for this time they were
+spared. One look at Mr. Lambert’s countenance, a full moon
+in the throes of apoplexy, had undermined even Judge
+Carver’s iron reserves. The gavel remained idle while he indulged
+himself in a severe attack of coughing behind a large and
+protective handkerchief. The red-headed girl was using a more
+minute one to mop her eyes when she paused, startled and
+incredulous. Across the courtroom, Patrick and his wife Susan
+were laughing into each other’s eyes, for one miraculous
+moment the gay and care-free comrades of old; for one moment—and
+then, abruptly, memory swept back her lifted veil and they
+sat staring blankly at the dreadful havoc that lay between
+them, who had been wont to seek each other in laughter. Slowly,
+painfully, Sue Ives wrenched her eyes back to their schooled
+vigilance, and after an interminable breath, Pat Ives turned his
+haunted ones back to the window, beyond which the sky was
+still blue. Only in that second’s wait the red-headed girl had
+seen the dark flush sweep across his pallor, and the hunger
+in those imploring eyes, frantic and despairing as those of
+a small boy who had watched a beloved hand slam a heavy
+door in his face.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, he loves her!” thought the red-headed girl. “He
+loves her dreadfully!” Those few scattered seconds when
+laughter and hope and despair had swept across a court—how
+long—how long they seemed! And yet they would have scantily
+sufficed to turn a pretty phrase or a platitude on the weather. They
+had just barely served to give the portly Lambert time to
+recover his breath, his voice, and his venom, all three of which he
+was now proceeding to utilize simultaneously and vigorously.</p>
+
+<p>“I see, I see. You’re particular about your jails—like
+them in valleys, do you? Now be good enough to answer my
+question without any further trifling.”</p>
+
+<p>“What question is that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Have you ever been in jail?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Orsini’s expression became faintly tinged with caution,
+but its affability did not diminish. “When?” he inquired
+impartially.</p>
+
+<p>“When? Any time! Will—you—answer—my—question?”</p>
+
+<p>Thus rudely adjured, his victim yielded to the inevitable
+with philosophy, humour, and grace. “Not any time—no, no!
+That is too exaggerate’. But sometimes—yes—I do not deny
+that sometimes I have been in jail.”</p>
+
+<p>Under the eyes of the entranced spectators, Mr. Lambert’s
+rosy jowls darkened to a fine, deep, full-bodied maroon. “You
+don’t deny it, hey? Well, that’s very magnanimous and
+gratifying—very gratifying indeed. Now will you continue to
+gratify us by telling us just why you went to jail?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Orsini dismissed his penal career with an eloquent shrug.
+“Ah, well, for what thing do you not go to jail in these days?
+If you do not have money to pay for fine, it is jail for you!
+You drink beer what is two and three quarter, you shake up
+some dice where you think nobody care, you drive nine and
+one-half mile over a bridge where it say eight and one half——”</p>
+
+<p>“That will do, Orsini. In 1911 did you or did you not serve
+eight months in jail for stealing some rings from a hotel room?”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah, that—that is one dirty lie—one dirty plant is put on
+me! I get that——”</p>
+
+<p>From under the swarthy skin of the erstwhile suave citizen
+of the world there leaped, sallow with fury, livid with fear, the
+Calabrian peasant, ugly and vengeful, chattering with
+incoherent rage. Lambert eyed him with profound satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, yes—naturally. It always is. Very unfortunate; our
+jails are crowded with these errors. It’s true, too, isn’t it, Orsini,
+that less than three weeks before the murder you told Mr.
+Bellamy that the reason you hadn’t asked your little Milanese
+friend to marry you was that you couldn’t afford to buy her
+an engagement ring?”</p>
+
+<p>“You—you——”</p>
+
+<p>“Just one moment, Orsini.” The prosecutor’s low voice cut
+sharply across the thick, violent stammering. “Don’t answer
+that question. . . . Your Honour, I once more respectfully
+inquire as to whether this is the trial of Mr. Bellamy and Mrs.
+Ives or of my witnesses, individually and en masse?”</p>
+
+<p>“And the Court has told you once before that it does not
+reply to purely rhetorical questions, Mr. Farr. You are
+perfectly aware as to whose trial this is, and while the Court is
+inclined to agree as to the impropriety of the last question, it
+does not believe that it is in error in stating that it is some
+time since you have seen fit to object to any of the questions put
+by Mr. Lambert to your witness.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour is quite correct. It being my profound
+conviction that I have an absolutely unshakable case, I have
+studiously refrained from injecting the usual note of acrimonious
+bickering into these proceedings that is supposed to be the legal
+prerogative. This kind of thing causes me profoundly to regret
+my forbearance, I may state. About two out of three witnesses
+that I’ve put on the stand have been practically accused of
+committing or abetting this murder. Whether they’re all
+supposed to be in one gigantic conspiracy or to have played lone
+hands is still a trifle hazy, but there’s no doubt whatever about
+the implications. Miss Page, Miss Cordier, Mr. Farwell, Mr.
+Ives, Mr. Orsini—it’ll be getting around to me in a minute.”</p>
+
+<p>“I object to this, Your Honour, I object!” The choked and
+impassioned voice of Mr. Dudley Lambert went down before
+the clear, metallic clang of the prosecutor’s, roused at last
+from lethargy.</p>
+
+<p>“And I object, too—I object to a great many things! I
+object to the appalling gravity of a trial for murder being turned
+into a farce by the kind of thing that’s been going on here
+this morning. I’m entirely serious in saying that Mr. Lambert
+might just as well select me as a target for his insinuations.
+I used to live in Rosemont. I have a good sharp pocket knife—my
+wife hasn’t a sapphire ring to her name—I’ve been arrested
+three times—twice for exceeding a speed limit of twenty-two
+miles an hour and once for trying to reason with a traffic cop
+who had delusions of grandeur and a——”</p>
+
+<p>“That will do, Mr. Farr.” There was a highly peremptory
+note in Judge Carver’s voice. “The Court has exercised possibly
+undue liberality in permitting you to extend your observations
+on this point, because it seemed well taken. It does not believe
+that you will gain anything by further elaboration. Mr.
+Lambert your last question is overruled. Have you any further
+ones to put to the witness?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert, looking a striking combination of a cross
+baby and a bulldog, did not take these observations kindly.
+“Am I denied the opportunity of attacking the credibility of the
+extraordinary collection of individuals that Mr. Farr chooses
+to produce as witnesses?”</p>
+
+<p>“You are not. In what way does your inquiry as to Mr.
+Orsini’s inability to provide a young woman with an
+engagement ring purport to attack his credibility?”</p>
+
+<p>“It purports to show that Orsini had a distinct motive
+for robbery and——”</p>
+
+<p>“Precisely. And precisely for that reason, since Mr. Orsini
+is not on trial here, the Court considers the question irrelevant
+and incompetent, as well as improper. Have you any further
+ones to put?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.” The rage that was consuming the unchastened Mr.
+Lambert choked his utterance and bulged his eyes. “No further
+questions. May I have an exception from Your Honour’s
+ruling?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly.”</p>
+
+<p>Orsini, stepping briskly down from the witness box, lingered
+long enough to bestow on his late inquisitor a glance in which
+knives flashed and blood flowed freely—a glance which Mr.
+Lambert, goaded by frustrated rage, returned with interest.
+The violence remained purely ocular, however, and the
+obviously disappointed spectators began to crawl laboriously to
+their feet.</p>
+
+<p>“Call for Turner.”</p>
+
+<p>“Joseph Turner!”</p>
+
+<p>A bright-eyed, brown-faced, friendly-looking boy swung
+alertly into the box and fired a pair of earnest young eyes on
+the prosecutor.</p>
+
+<p>“What was your occupation on June nineteenth of this
+year, Mr. Turner?”</p>
+
+<p>“I was bus driver over the Perrytown route.”</p>
+
+<p>“Still are?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir; driving for the same outfit, but over a new
+route—Redfield to Glenvale.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ever see these before, Turner?”</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor lifted a black chiffon cape and lace scarf
+from the pasteboard box beside him and extended them casually
+toward the witness.</p>
+
+<p>The boy eyed them soberly. “Yes, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“When?”</p>
+
+<p>“Two or three times, sir; the last time was the night of the
+nineteenth of June.”</p>
+
+<p>“At what time?”</p>
+
+<p>“At about eight-thirty-five.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where did you pick Mrs. Bellamy up?”</p>
+
+<p>“At about a quarter of a mile beyond her house, toward the
+club. There’s a bus stop there, and she stepped out from some
+deep shadows at the side of the road and signalled me to stop.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you know Mrs. Bellamy by name at that time?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir; I found out later. That’s when I learned where her
+house was too.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was yours the first bus that she could have caught?”</p>
+
+<p>“If she missed the eight o’clock bus. Mine was the next.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did anything particularly draw your attention to her?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir. She had her face all muffled up in her veil, the
+way she always did, but I specially noticed her slippers. They
+were awfully pretty shiny silver slippers, and when I let
+her out at the corner before Orchards it was sort of muddy,
+and I thought they sure were foolish little things to walk in,
+but that it was a terrible pity to spoil ’em like that.”</p>
+
+<p>“How long did it take you to cover the distance between the
+point from which you picked Mrs. Bellamy up to the point at
+which you set her down?”</p>
+
+<p>“About eight minutes, I should say. It’s a little over two
+miles—nearer two and a half, I guess.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did she seem in a hurry?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir, she surely did; when she got out at the Orchards
+corner she started off almost at a run. I pretty nearly called
+to her to look out or she’d trip herself, but then I decided that
+it wasn’t none of my business, and of course it wasn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“How do you fix the date and the time, Turner?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that’s easy. It was my last trip that night to
+Perrytown, see? And about the date, next morning I saw how there
+had been the—a—well, a murder at Orchards, and I
+remembered her and those silver slippers, and that black cloak, so I
+dropped in at headquarters to tell ’em what I knew—and it was
+her all right. They made me go over and look at her, and
+I won’t forget that in a hurry, either—no, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>The boy who had driven her to Orchards set his lips hard,
+turning his eyes resolutely from the little black cloak. “I got
+’em to change my route the next day,” he said, his pleasant
+young voice suddenly shaken.</p>
+
+<p>“You say that you had driven her over several times before?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, two or three times, I guess—all in that last month
+too. I only had the route a month.”</p>
+
+<p>“Same time—half-past eight?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s right—eight-thirty.”</p>
+
+<p>“Anything in particular call your attention to her?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I should think she’d have called anyone’s attention
+to her,” said Joe Turner gently. “Even all wrapped up like
+that, she was prettier than anything I ever saw in my whole
+life.” And he added, more gently still: “About twenty times
+prettier.”</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor stood silent for a moment, letting the hushed
+voice evoke once more that radiant image, lace-scarfed,
+silver-slippered, slipping off into the shadows. “That will be all,” he
+said. “Cross-examine.”</p>
+
+<p>“No questions.” Even Lambert’s voice boomed less roundly.</p>
+
+<p>“Next witness—Sergeant Johnson.”</p>
+
+<p>“Sergeant Hendrick Johnson!”</p>
+
+<p>Obedient to Ben Potts’s lyric summons, a young gentleman
+who looked like a Norse god inappropriately clothed in gray
+whipcord and a Sam Browne belt strode promptly down the
+aisle and into the witness box.</p>
+
+<p>“Sergeant Johnson, what was your occupation on the
+nineteenth of June, 1926?”</p>
+
+<p>“State trooper—sergeant.”</p>
+
+<p>“When did you first receive notification of the murder at
+Orchards?”</p>
+
+<p>“At a little before ten on the morning of the twentieth of
+June. I’d just dropped in at headquarters when Mr. Conroy
+came in to report what he’d discovered at the cottage.”</p>
+
+<p>“Please tell us what happened then.”</p>
+
+<p>“I was detailed to accompany Mr. Dutton, the coroner, Dr.
+Stanley and another trooper, Dan Wilkins, to the cottage. Mr.
+Dutton took Dr. Stanley along with him in his roadster, and
+Wilkins rode with me in my side car. We left headquarters at
+a little after ten and got to the cottage about quarter past.”</p>
+
+<p>“Just one moment. Do I understand that the state troopers
+have headquarters in Rosemont?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s correct, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of which you are in charge?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s correct too.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who had the key to the cottage?”</p>
+
+<p>“I had it; Mr. Conroy had turned it over to me. I unlocked
+the door of the cottage myself, and we all went in together.”
+The crisp, assured young voice implied that a murder more or
+less was all in the day’s work to the state police.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you drive directly up to the cottage door?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; we left the motorcycle and the car just short of the
+spot where the little dirt road to the cottage hits the gravel
+road to the main house and went in on foot, using the grass
+strip that edges the road.”</p>
+
+<p>“Any special reason for that?”</p>
+
+<p>“There certainly was. We didn’t want to mix up footprints
+and other marks any more than they’d been mixed already.”</p>
+
+<p>“What happened after you got in the house?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, Mr. Dutton and the doctor took charge of the body,
+and we helped them to move it into the dining room across
+the hall, after a careful inspection had been made of the
+position of the body. As a matter of fact, a chalk outline was made
+of it for further analysis, if necessary, and I took a flash light
+or so of it so that we’d have that, too, to check up with later.
+I helped to carry the body to the other room and place it on
+the table, where it was decided to keep it until the autopsy could
+be performed. I then locked the door of the parlour so that
+nothing could be disturbed there, put the key in my pocket, and
+went out to inspect the marks in the dirt road. I left Mr.
+Dutton and Dr. Stanley with the body and sent Wilkins down
+the road to a gas station to telephone Mr. Bellamy that his
+wife had been found in the cottage. There was no telephone
+in the cottage, and the one at the main house had been
+disconnected.”</p>
+
+<p>“Sergeant, was Mr. Bellamy under suspicion at the time that
+you telephoned him?”</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t do the telephoning,” corrected Sergeant Johnson
+dispassionately; and added more dispassionately still;
+“Everyone was under suspicion.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Bellamy no more than another?”</p>
+
+<p>“What I said was,” remarked the sergeant with professional
+reticence, “that everyone was under suspicion.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Farr met the imperturbable blue eye of his witness with
+an expression in which irritation and discretion were struggling
+for supremacy. Discretion triumphed. “Did you discover any
+tracks on the cottage road?”</p>
+
+<p>“I surely did.”</p>
+
+<p>“Footprints?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; there were some prints, but they were too cut up
+and blurred to make much out of. What I found were tire
+tracks.”</p>
+
+<p>“More than one set?”</p>
+
+<p>“There were traces of at least four sets, two of them made
+by the same car.”</p>
+
+<p>“All equally distinct?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, they varied considerably. The ground in the cottage
+road is of a distinctly clayey character, which under the proper
+conditions would act almost as a cast.”</p>
+
+<p>“What would be a proper condition?”</p>
+
+<p>“A damp state following a rainstorm, followed in turn by
+sufficient fair weather to permit the impression to dry out.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was such a state in existence?”</p>
+
+<p>“In one case—yes. There was a storm between one and three
+on the afternoon of the nineteenth. We’ll call the tire
+impressions A, B 1 and 2, and C. A showed only very vague traces
+of a very broad, massive tire on a heavy car. It was almost
+obliterated, showing that it must have been there either before
+or during the downpour.”</p>
+
+<p>“Would those tracks have corresponded to the ones on Mr.
+Farwell’s car?”</p>
+
+<p>“There were absolutely no distinguishing tire marks left;
+it could have been Mr. Farwell’s or any other large car. C
+had come much later, when the ground had had time to dry
+out considerably. They were the traces of a medium-sized tire
+on fairly dry ground. They cut across the tracks left by both
+A and B.”</p>
+
+<p>“Could they have been made by Mr. Conroy’s car?”</p>
+
+<p>“I think that very likely they were. I checked up as well
+as possible under the conditions, and they corresponded all
+right.”</p>
+
+<p>“What about the B impressions?”</p>
+
+<p>“Both the B impressions were as sharp and distinct as
+though they had been made in wax. They were made by the
+same car; judging from the soil conditions, at an interval of
+an hour or so. We made a series of tests later to see how long
+it retained moisture.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of what nature were these impressions, sergeant?”</p>
+
+<p>“They were narrow tires, such as are used on the smaller,
+lighter cars,” said Sergeant Johnson, a slight tinge of gravity
+touching the curtness of his unemotional young voice. “Two of
+the tires—the ones on the front right and rear left wheels had
+the tread so worn off that it would be risky to hazard a guess
+as to their manufacture. The ones on the front left and rear
+right were brand new, and the impressions in both cases were
+as clear cut as though you’d carved them. The impressions of
+B 2 were even deeper than B 1, showing that the car must
+have stood much longer at one time than at another. We
+experimented with that, too, but the results weren’t definite
+enough to report on positively.”</p>
+
+<p>“What makes you so clear as to which were B 2?”</p>
+
+<p>“At one spot B 2 was superimposed on B 1 very distinctly.”</p>
+
+<p>“What were the makes of the rear right and left front tires,
+sergeant?”</p>
+
+<p>“The rear right was a new Ajax tire; the front left was a
+practically new Silvertown cord.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did they correspond with any of the cars mentioned so
+far in this case?”</p>
+
+<p>“They corresponded exactly with the tires on Mr. Stephen
+Bellamy’s car when we inspected it on the afternoon of June
+twentieth.”</p>
+
+<p>“No possibility of error?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a chance,” said Sergeant Johnson, succinctly and
+gravely.</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly. Had the car been washed at the time you inspected
+it, Sergeant?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir, it had not.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was there mud on the tires?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but as it was of much the same character as the mud in
+Mr. Bellamy’s own drive, we attached no particular importance
+to it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was there any grease on the car?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir; we made a very thorough inspection. There was no
+trace of grease.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you find anything else of consequence on the premises,
+sergeant?”</p>
+
+<p>“I picked up a kind of lunch box in the shrubbery outside,
+and in the dining room, on a chair in the corner, I found a
+black cape—chiffon, I expect you call it—a black lace scarf and
+a little black silk bag with a shiny clasp that looked like
+diamonds.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you keep a list of the contents of the bag?”</p>
+
+<p>“I did.”</p>
+
+<p>“Have you it with you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let’s hear it, please?”</p>
+
+<p>“ ‘Contents of black purse found in dining room of Thorne
+Cottage, June 20, 1926,’ ” read Sergeant Johnson briskly,
+“ ‘One vanity case, pale green enamel; one lip stick, same; one
+small green linen handkerchief, marked Mimi; leather frame
+inclosing snapshot of man in tennis clothes, inscribed For My
+Mimi from Steve; sample of blue chiffon with daisies; gold
+pencil; two theatre-ticket stubs to Vanities, June eighth; three
+letters, written on white bond paper, signed Pat.’ ”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s all?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s all.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are these the articles found in the dining room, sergeant?”</p>
+
+<p>Sergeant Johnson eyed the contents of the box placed before
+him somewhat cursorily. “Those are the ones.”</p>
+
+<p>“Just check over the contents of the bag, will you? Nothing
+missing?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a thing.”</p>
+
+<p>“I ask to have these marked for identification and offer them
+in evidence, Your Honour.”</p>
+
+<p>“No objections,” said Mr. Lambert unexpectedly.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Farr eyed him incredulously for a moment, as though
+he doubted the evidence of his ears. Then, rather thoughtfully,
+he produced another object from the inexhaustible maw of his
+desk and poised it carefully on the ledge under the sergeant’s
+nose. It was a box—a nice, shiny tin box, painted a cheerful but
+decorous maroon—the kind of a box that good little boys carry
+triumphantly to school, bursting with cookies and apples and
+peanut-butter sandwiches. It had a neat handle and a large,
+beautiful, early English initial painted on the top.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you recognize this, sergeant?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. It’s a lunch box that I picked up back of the
+shrubbery to the left of the Orchards cottage.”</p>
+
+<p>“Had it anything in it?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was about three-quarters empty. There was a ham
+sandwich and some salted nuts and dates in it, and a couple of
+doughnuts.”</p>
+
+<p>“What should you say that the initial on the cover
+represented?”</p>
+
+<p>“I shouldn’t say,” remarked the sergeant frankly. “It’s got too
+many curlicues and doodads. It might be a D, or it might
+be P, or then again, it mightn’t be either.”</p>
+
+<p>“So far as you know, it hasn’t been identified as anyone’s
+property?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“It might have been left there at some previous date?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, it might have been; but the food seemed pretty
+fresh, and there were some new twigs broken off, as though
+someone had pressed way back into the shrubbery.”</p>
+
+<p>“I offer this box in evidence, Your Honour, not as of any
+evidential value, but merely to keep the record straight as to
+what was turned over by the police.”</p>
+
+<p>“No objections,” said Mr. Lambert with that same
+surprising promptitude, his eyes following the shiny box somewhat
+hungrily.</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, sergeant, that’s all. Cross-examine.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you examine the portion of the drive to the rear of the
+cottage, sergeant?” inquired Mr. Lambert with genial interest.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“Find any traces of tires?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“No further questions,” intoned Mr. Lambert mellifluously.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Farr turned briskly to an unhappy-looking young man
+crouching apprehensively in a far corner. “Now, Mr. Oliver,
+I’m going to get you just to read these three letters into the
+record. I’m unable to do it myself, as I’ve been subjected to
+considerable eye strain recently.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do I start with the one on top?” inquired the wretched
+youth, who looked as though he were about to die at any
+moment.</p>
+
+<p>“Start with the first in order of date,” suggested Mr. Farr
+benevolently. “May twenty-first, I think it is. And just raise
+your voice a little so we’ll all be able to hear you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Darling, darling,” roared Mr. Oliver unbelievably, and
+paused, staring about him wildly, flame coloured far beyond
+the roots of his russet hair. “May twenty-first,” he added in
+a suffocated whisper.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="letter">
+
+<p class="salutation">Darling, darling:</p>
+
+<p>I waited there for you for over an hour. I couldn’t believe that you
+weren’t coming—not after you’d promised. And when I got back and
+found that hateful, stiff little note—— Mimi, how could you? You
+didn’t mean it to say, “I don’t love you”? It didn’t say that, did it?
+It sounded so horribly as though that was what it was trying to say
+that I kept both hands over my ears all the time that I was reading it.
+I won’t believe it. You do—you must. You’re the only thing that
+I’ve ever loved in all my life, Mimi; I swear it. You’re the only
+thing that I’ll ever love, as long as I live.</p>
+
+<p>You say that you’re frightened; that there’s been talk—oh, darling,
+what of it? “They say? What say they? Let them say!” They’re a
+lot of wise, sensible, good-for-nothing idiots, who haven’t anything
+better to do in the world than wag their heads and their tongues,
+or else they’re a pack of young fools, frantic with jealousy because
+they can’t be beautiful like Mimi or lucky like Pat. If their talk
+gets really dangerous or ugly we can shut them all up in ten seconds
+by telling them that we’re planning to shake the dust of Rosemont from
+our heels any minute, and live happy ever after in some “cleaner,
+greener land.”</p>
+
+<p>Do you want me to tell them that I’ve asked you fifteen thousand
+and three times to burn all our bridges and marry me, Mimi? Or
+didn’t you hear me? You always look then as though you were
+listening to someone else—someone with a louder voice than mine, saying
+“Wait—not yet. Think again—you’ll be sorry. Be careful—be
+careful.” Don’t listen to that liar, Mimi—listen to Pat, who loves you.</p>
+
+<p>To-morrow night, about nine, I’ll have the car at the back road.
+I’ll manage to get away somehow, and you must too. Wear that
+frilly thing that I love—you know, the green one—and the slippers
+with butterflies on them, and nothing on your hair. The wickedest
+thing that you ever do is to wear a hat. No, I’m wrong, you can
+wear something on your hair, after all. On the two curls right behind
+your ears—the littlest curls—my curls—you can wear two drops of
+that stuff that smells like lilacs in the rain. And I’ll put you—and
+your curls—and your slippers—and your sweetness—and your
+magic—into my car and we’ll drive twenty miles away from those
+wagging tongues. And, Mimi, I’ll teach you how beautiful it is to be
+alive and young and in love, in a world that’s full of spring and stars
+and lilacs. Oh, Mimi, come quickly and let me teach you!</p>
+
+<p class="signature">Pat.</p>
+
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The halting voice laboured to an all too brief silence. Even
+the back of Mr. Oliver’s neck was incandescent—perhaps he
+would not have flamed so hotly if he had realized how few
+eyes in the courtroom were resting on him. For across the
+crowded little room, Sue Ives, all her gay serenity gone, was
+staring at the figure by the window with terrified and
+incredulous eyes, black with tears.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Pat—oh, Pat,” cried those drowning eyes, “what is this
+that you have done to us? Never loved anyone else? Never in
+all your life? What is this that you have done?”</p>
+
+<p>And as though in answer to that despairing cry, the man by
+the window half rose, shaking his head in fierce entreaty.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t listen! Don’t listen!” implored his frantic eyes. . . .</p>
+
+<p>“Now the next one, Mr. Oliver,” said Mr. Farr.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="letter">
+
+<p class="dateline">Rosemont, June 8th.</p>
+
+<p class="salutation">Mimi darling, darling, darling:</p>
+
+<p>It’s after four o’clock and the birds in the vines outside the window
+are making the most awful row. I haven’t closed my eyes yet, and
+now I’m going to stop trying. What’s the use of sleeping, when
+here’s another day with Mimi in it? Dawn—I always thought it was
+the worst word in the English language, and here I am on my knees
+waiting for it, and ranting about it like any fool—like any happy,
+happy fool.</p>
+
+<p>I’m so happy that it simply isn’t decent. I keep telling myself that
+we’re mad—that there’s black trouble ahead of us—that I haven’t
+any right in the world to let you do this—that I’m older and ought to
+be wiser. And when I get all through, the only thing I can
+remember is that I feel like a kid waking up on his birthday to find the
+sun and the moon and the stars and the world and a little red wagon
+sitting in a row at the foot of his bed. Because I have you, Mimi, and
+you’re the sun and the moon and the stars and the world—and a little
+red wagon too, my beautiful love.</p>
+
+<p>Well, here’s the sun himself, and no one in Rosemont to pay any
+attention to him but the milkman and me. “The sun in splendour”—what
+comes after that, do you remember? Not that it makes any
+difference; the only thing that makes any difference is that what will
+come after that in just a few minutes will be a clock striking
+five—and then six and then seven and it will be another day—another
+miraculous, incredible day getting under way in a world that holds
+Mimi in it. Lucky day, lucky world, lucky, lucky me, Mimi, who will be
+your worshipper while this world lasts.</p>
+
+<p>Good morning, Beautiful.</p>
+
+<p class="signature">Your Pat.</p>
+
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The eyes of the Court swung avidly back to the slim figure
+in the space before them, but for once that bright head was
+bowed. Sue Ives was no longer looking at Mimi’s worshipper.</p>
+
+<p>“And the next?” murmured Farr.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="letter">
+
+<p class="dateline">Rosemont, June 9th.</p>
+
+<p class="salutation">My little heart:</p>
+
+<p>I went to bed the minute I got home, just as I promised, but it
+didn’t do much good. I did go to sleep for a bit, but it was only to
+dream that you were leaning over me again with your hair swinging
+down like two lovely clouds of fire and saying over and over in that
+small, blessed voice—that voice that I’d strain to hear from under
+three feet of sod—“It’s not a dream, love, it’s not a dream—it’s Mimi,
+who’s yours and who’s sweeter than all the dreams you’ll dream
+between here and heaven. Wake up. Wake up! She’s waiting for
+you. How can you sleep?” And I couldn’t sleep; no, it’s no use. Mimi,
+how can I ever sleep again, now that I have you?</p>
+
+<p>It wasn’t just a dream that between those shining clouds that are
+your hair your eyes were bright with laughter and with tears, was
+it, Mimi? No, that was not a dream. To think that anyone in the
+world can cry and still be beautiful! It must be an awful temptation
+to do it all the time—only I know that you won’t. Darling, don’t cry.
+Even when you look beautiful and on the edge of laughter, it makes
+me want to kill myself. It’s because you’re afraid, isn’t it—afraid
+that we won’t be able to make a go of it? Don’t be afraid. If you
+will come to me—really, forever, not in little snatched bits of heaven
+like this, but to belong to me all the days of my life—if you will
+believe in me and trust me, I swear that I’ll make you happy. I
+swear it.</p>
+
+<p>I know that at first it may be hideously hard. I know that giving
+up everything here and starting life all over somewhere with strangers
+will be hard to desperation. But it will be easier than trying to fight
+it out here, won’t it, Mimi? And in the end we’ll hold happiness in
+our hands—you’ll see, my blessed. Don’t cry, don’t cry, my little
+girl—not even in dreams, not even through laughter. Because, you see,
+like the Prince and Princess in the fairy tale, we’re going to live
+happy ever after.</p>
+
+<p class="signature">Your Pat.</p>
+
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>“That concludes the letters?” inquired Judge Carver,
+hopefully, his eyes on the bowed head beneath his throne.</p>
+
+<p>“That concludes them,” said Mr. Farr, removing them
+deftly from the assistant prosecutor’s palsied fingers. “And as
+it is close to four, I would like to make a suggestion. The state
+is ready to rest its case with these letters, but an extremely
+unfortunate occurrence has deprived us so far of one of our
+witnesses, who is essential as a link in the chain of evidence that
+we have forged. This witness was stricken three weeks ago with
+appendicitis and rushed to a New York hospital. I was given
+every assurance that he would be able to be present by this date,
+but late last week unfavourable symptoms developed and he has
+been closely confined ever since.</p>
+
+<p>“I have here the surgeon’s certificate that he is absolutely
+unable to take the stand to-day, but that it is entirely possible
+that he may do so by Monday. As this is Friday, therefore, I
+respectfully suggest that we adjourn to Monday, when the
+state will rest its case.”</p>
+
+<p>“Have you any objections, Mr. Lambert?”</p>
+
+<p>“Every objection, Your Honour!” replied Mr. Lambert
+with passionate conviction. “I have two witnesses myself who
+have come here at great inconvenience to themselves and are
+obliged to return at the earliest possible moment. What about
+them? What about the unfortunate jury? What about the
+unfortunate defendants? I have most emphatic objections to
+delaying this trial one second longer.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then I can only suggest that the trial proceed and that
+the state be permitted to produce its witness as soon as is
+humanly possible, in which case the defense would necessarily
+be permitted to produce what witnesses it saw fit in rebuttal.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert, still flown with some secret triumph, made
+an ample gesture of condescension.</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, I consider it highly irregular, but leave it
+that way—leave it that way by all means. Now, Your
+Honour——”</p>
+
+<p>“You say you have a certificate, Mr. Farr?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, Your Honour.”</p>
+
+<p>“May we have its contents?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly.” Mr. Farr tendered it promptly. “It’s from the
+chief surgeon at St. Luke’s. As you see, it simply says that it
+would be against his express orders that Dr. Barretti should
+take the stand to-day, but that, if nothing unfavourable
+develops, he should be able to do so by Monday.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. Well, Mr. Farr, if Mr. Lambert has no objections
+you may produce Dr. Barretti then. You have no further
+questions?”</p>
+
+<p>“None, Your Honour.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, the Court stands adjourned until to-morrow at
+ten.”</p>
+
+<p>“What name did he say?” inquired the reporter in a
+curiously hushed voice. “Dr. What?”</p>
+
+<p>“It sounded like Barretti,” said the red-headed girl, getting
+limply to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>“The poor fool!” murmured the reporter in the same
+awe-stricken tones.</p>
+
+<p>“What?”</p>
+
+<p>“Lambert. Did you get that? The poor blithering fool
+doesn’t know who he is and where he’s heading.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, who is he?” inquired the red-headed girl over her
+shoulder despairingly. She felt that if anything else happened
+she would sit on the floor and cry, and she didn’t want
+to—much.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s Barretti—Gabriel Barretti,” said the reporter. “The
+greatest finger-print expert in the world. Lord, it means that
+he must have their—— What in the world’s the matter? D’you
+want a handkerchief?”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl, nodding feebly, clutched at the large
+white handkerchief with one hand and the large blue serge
+sleeve with the other. Anyway, she hadn’t sat on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>The fourth day of the Bellamy trial was over.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch05">
+
+<h2>Chapter V</h2>
+
+<p>“He couldn’t look so cocky and triumphant and
+absolutely sure of himself as that if he didn’t actually
+know that everything was all right,” explained the
+red-haired girl in a reasonable but tremulous whisper, keeping
+an eye in desperate need of reassurance on the portly and
+flamboyant Lambert, who was prowling up and down in front of
+the jury with an expression of lightly won victory on his
+rubicund countenance and a tie that boasted actual checks under
+a ruddy chin. Every now and then he uttered small,
+premonitory booms.</p>
+
+<p>“He could look just exactly like that if he were a
+God-forsaken fool,” murmured the reporter gloomily. “And would,
+and undoubtedly does. Whom the gods destroy they first make
+mad. Look out, there he goes!”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour,” intoned Mr. Lambert with unction,
+“gentlemen of the jury, I am not going to burden you with a
+lengthy dissertation at this moment. In my summing up at a
+later time I will attempt to analyze the fallacious and specious
+reasoning on which my brilliant opponent has constructed his
+case, but at present something else is in my mind; or perhaps I
+should be both more candid and more accurate if I say that
+something else is in my heart.</p>
+
+<p>“We have heard a great deal of the beauty, the charm, the
+enchantment, and the tragedy of the young woman whose
+dreadful death has brought about this trial. Much stress has
+been laid on her appalling fate and on the pitiful horror of
+so much loveliness crushed out in such a fashion. It is very
+far from my desire to deny or to belittle any of this. Tragic and
+dreadful, indeed, was the fate of Madeleine Bellamy; not one
+of us can think of it unmoved.</p>
+
+<p>“But, gentlemen, when its horror grips you most relentlessly,
+I ask you to think of another young woman whose fate, to my
+mind, has been bitterer still; who, many times in these past
+few days, would have been glad to change places with that
+dead girl, safe and quiet now, beyond the reach of the slings
+and arrows of outrageous fortune that have been raining
+about her own unprotected head. I ask you to turn your
+thoughts for one moment to the fate of Susan Ives, the
+prisoner at the bar.</p>
+
+<p>“Not so many weeks ago there is not one of you who would
+not have thought her an object of profound envy. Sue Ives, the
+adored, the cherished, the protected; Sue Ives, moving safe and
+happy through a world of flowers and blue skies that held no
+single cloud; Sue Ives, the lucky and beloved, the darling of
+the gods. There she sits before you, gentlemen, betrayed by her
+husband, befouled by every idle tongue that wags, torn from
+her children and her home, pilloried in every journal in the
+land from the most lofty and impeccable sheet to the vilest rag
+in Christendom, branded before the world as that darkest,
+most dreadful and most abject of creatures—a murderess.</p>
+
+<p>“A murderess! This girl, so loyal and generous and honest
+that those who knew her believed her to be of somewhat finer
+clay than the rest of this workaday world; so proud, so
+sensitive and so fastidious that those who loved her would rather
+a thousand times have seen her dead in her grave than
+subjected to the ugly torture that has been her lot these past few
+days. What of her lot, gentlemen? What of her fate? What
+has brought her to this dreadful pass? Lightness or disloyalty
+or bad repute or reckless indiscretion or evil intent? Your own
+wife, your own daughter, your own mother, could not be freer
+of any taint of scandal or criticism.</p>
+
+<p>“Accusations of this nature have been made in this court,
+but not by me and not against her. Of these sins, Madeleine
+Bellamy, the girl for whom all your pity has been invoked,
+has stood accused. She is dead. I, too, invoke your pity for her
+and such forgetfulness as you can mete out for the folly and
+dishonour that led to her death. For if she had not gone to
+that cottage to meet her lover, death would not have claimed
+her. She met death because she was there, alone and
+unprotected. Whether she was struck down by a thief, a blackmailer,
+an old lover or a new one, is not within my province to prove
+or in yours to decide. My intent is only to show you that so
+slight is the case against Susan Ives and Stephen Bellamy that
+a stronger one could be made out against half a dozen people
+that have been paraded before you in order to defame her.</p>
+
+<p>“What is this case against her? I say against her, because if
+you decide that Mrs. Ives is not guilty, the case against Stephen
+Bellamy collapses automatically. It is not the contention of
+the state that he committed this crime. The evidence produced
+shows, according to the state, that he and Mrs. Ives were
+together throughout the evening, at her instigation. If she had
+nothing whatever to do with the crime, it follows inevitably
+that neither did her companion. I again, therefore, turn your
+attention to Mrs. Ives, and ask you once more what is this case
+against her?</p>
+
+<p>“This: You are asked to believe that this girl—many of you
+have daughters older than Susan Ives—that this girl, gently
+born, gently bred and gentle-hearted, upon receiving
+information from a half-intoxicated and infatuated suitor of Mimi
+Bellamy’s that Mimi was carrying on an affair with her husband,
+Patrick Ives, dined peacefully at home, rose from the table,
+summoned Mrs. Bellamy’s adoring husband to meet her down
+a back lane, procured a knife from a table in her husband’s
+study and straightway sallied forth to remove the encumbrance
+that she had discovered in her smooth path by the simple and
+straightforward process of murdering her—murder, you note,
+premeditated, preconceived, and prearranged. Roughly, an hour
+and a half elapsed between the time that Susan Ives set out and
+the moment that the scream fixes as that of the murder.</p>
+
+<p>“Presumably some of that time was occupied in convincing
+Mr. Bellamy of the excellence of her scheme and some of it
+in idle conversation—the time must have been occupied
+somehow; the actual rise and fall of a knife is no lengthy matter.
+Mr. Bellamy, we gather, was so entertained by the death of
+his idolized wife that he yielded to hearty laughter—Mr.
+Thorne has told you of that laugh, I believe.</p>
+
+<p>“The lamp has gone out, so in total darkness they proceed
+to collect the jewels and wait peacefully until Mr. Thorne has
+put his keys under the doormat—the door is locked; they
+have thought of everything, you see—when once more they
+venture forth, enter an automobile that has the convenient quality
+of becoming either visible or invisible as serves them best, and
+return promptly and speedily to the house of Mr. Stephen
+Bellamy.</p>
+
+<p>“Possibly you wonder why they do that. It is barely ten, and
+almost anyone might see them, thereby destroying their carefully
+concocted movie alibi, but possibly they thought that the
+Bellamy house would be a nice place to hide the pearls and talk
+things over. We are left a trifle in the dark as to their motives
+here, but undoubtedly the prosecutor will clear all that up
+perfectly. Ten minutes later they come out, and still together
+start off once more, presumably in the direction of Mrs. Ives’s
+home so that everyone there can get a good look at them
+together, while Mrs. Ives still has the knife and the bloodstained
+coat in her possession. There they part, Mrs. Ives to straighten
+up a little before she takes some fruit up to Mrs. Daniel Ives,
+Mr. Bellamy presumably to return to his own home and a
+night of well-earned repose.</p>
+
+<p>“In the morning Mrs. Ives rises sufficiently early to pack up
+the blood drenched garments in a large box for the Salvation
+Army; she turns them over to a maid to turn over to a
+chauffeur, requests a fresh pair of gloves and sets forth to early
+church—the service which she has attended every Sunday of
+her life since she was a mite of six, with eyes too big for her
+face, hair to her waist, skirts to her knees and little white
+cotton gloves that would fit a doll if it weren’t too big. The
+prosecutor leaves her there telling her God that last night she
+had had to kill a girl who was liable to make a nuisance of
+herself before she got through by cutting down Sue Ives’s
+monthly income considerably. Of course it all may seem a trifle
+incomprehensible to us, but it’s undoubtedly perfectly clear to
+God and the prosecutor.</p>
+
+<p>“I think that that is a fair and accurate statement of the
+state’s case, though Mr. Farr undoubtedly can—and will—make
+it sound a great deal more plausible when he gets at it.
+But that’s what it boils down to, and all the specious reasoning
+and forensic and histrionic ability in the world won’t make it
+one atom less preposterous. That’s their case.</p>
+
+<p>“And on what evidence are we asked to believe this incredible
+farrago? I’ll tell you. We have the word of a hysterical and
+morbidly sensitive girl with a supposed grievance that she
+overheard a telephone conversation; we have the word of a
+vindictive young vixen who is leading nothing more nor less
+than a life of sin that she planted a note and failed to find it
+again; we have the disjointed narrative of an unfortunate
+fellow so far gone in drink, and love that he was half out of his
+senses at the time that he is supposed to be reporting these
+crucial events and has since blown his brains out; we have the
+word of an ex-jailbird who might well have more reasons than
+one for directing the finger of suspicion at a convenient
+victim; we have a trooper, eager for credit and prominence,
+swearing to you that he can as clearly recognize and identify a scrap
+of earth bearing the imprint of a bit of tire as though it were
+the upturned countenance of his favourite child—a bit of tire,
+gentlemen, which undoubtedly has some hundreds of millions of
+twins in this capacious country of ours.</p>
+
+<p>“It is on this evidence, fantastic though it may sound, that
+my distinguished adversary is asking you to condemn to death
+a gentle lady and an honest gentleman. On the testimony of
+a neurotic, a love thief, a jailbird, and a drunkard! These are
+plain words to describe plain truths. I propose to produce
+witnesses of unimpeachable record to substantiate every one of
+them.</p>
+
+<p>“It is, frankly, a great temptation to me to rest the case for
+the defense here and now; because in all honesty I cannot see
+how it would take any twelve sane men in this country five
+consecutive minutes to reach and return a verdict of not guilty.
+Remember, it does not devolve on me to prove that Susan Ives
+and Stephen Bellamy are innocent, but on the state to prove
+that they are guilty. If they have proved that these two are
+guilty, then they have proved that I am. I believe absolutely that
+one is not more absurd than the other.</p>
+
+<p>“On that profound conviction I could, I say, rest this case.
+But there is a bare possibility that some minor aspects of the
+case are not so clear to you as they are to me—there is a
+passionate desire on my part to leave not one stone unturned
+in behalf of either of my clients—and there is also, I confess,
+a very human desire to confront and confound some of the
+glib crew who have mounted the steps to that stand day after
+day somewhat too greatly concerned to swear away two human
+lives. It will not be a lengthy and exhausting performance, I
+promise. Four or five honest men and women will suffice,
+and you will find, I believe, that truth travels as fast as light.</p>
+
+<p>“Nor shall I produce the hundreds upon hundreds of
+character witnesses that I could bring before you to tell you that
+of all the fine and true and gallant souls that have crossed their
+paths, the most gallant, the finest and the truest is the girl that
+this very sovereign state is asking you to brand as a murderess.
+In the case of the People versus Susan Ives I shall call only
+one character witness into that box—Susan Ives herself. And
+if, after you have listened to her, after you have seen her, after
+you have heard her tell her story, you do not believe that society
+and the law and the people themselves, clamouring for a
+victim, have made a frightful and shocking error, it will be
+because I am not only a bad lawyer but a bad prophet as well.
+Gentlemen, it is my profound and solemn conviction that
+whatever I may be as a lawyer, I am in very truth a good prophet!”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t believe he’s a bad lawyer,” said the red-headed girl
+breathlessly. “He’s a good lawyer. He is! He makes everyone
+see just how ridiculous the case against them is. That’s being
+a good lawyer, isn’t it. That’s making a good speech, isn’t it?
+That’s——”</p>
+
+<p>“He’s a pompous old jackass,” said the reporter unkindly.
+“But he loves his Sue, and he did just a little better than he
+knows how. Not so good at that either. You don’t make a case
+ridiculous by jeering at it. If——”</p>
+
+<p>“Call Mrs. Platz!” boomed the oblivious object of his
+strictures.</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Adolph Platz!”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Platz, minute and meek, with straw-coloured hair and
+straw-coloured lashes and a small pink nose in a small white
+face, advanced toward the witness stand with no assurance
+whatever.</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Platz, what was your position on June 19, 1926?”</p>
+
+<p>“I was chambermaid-waitress with Mrs. Alfred Bond at
+Oyster Bay.”</p>
+
+<p>“Had you been formerly in the employ of Mrs. Patrick
+Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir, I was, for about six months in 1925. I just did
+chamber work there, though.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was your husband there at the time?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir. Adolph was there as what you might call a useful
+man. He helped with the furnace and garden and ran the
+station wagon—things like that.”</p>
+
+<p>“How long had you been married?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not very long, sir—not a year, quite.” Mrs. Platz’s lips
+were suddenly unsteady.</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Platz, why did you leave Mrs. Ives’s employ?”</p>
+
+<p>“Do I have to answer that, sir?”</p>
+
+<p>“I should very much like to have you answer it. Was it
+because you were discontented with your work?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no, indeed, it wasn’t that; nobody in this world could
+want a kinder mistress than Mrs. Ives. It was because—it was
+because of Adolph.”</p>
+
+<p>“What about Adolph, Mrs. Platz?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was because——” She shook her head despairingly,
+fighting down the shamed, painful flush. “I don’t like talking about
+it, sir. I’m not one for talking much.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know. Still, the only thing that can help any of us now
+is truth. I’m sure that you want to help to give us that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir, I do. All right then—it was because of the way
+Adolph was carrying on with Mrs. Ives’s waitress, Melanie.”</p>
+
+<p>“How did you know that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I think they wanted me to know it,” said Adolph
+Platz’s wife, her soft voice suddenly hard and bitter. “He was
+more like a lunatic over her than a sane, grown-up man—he
+was indeed. I caught him kissing her twice—once in the pantry
+and once just behind the garage. They wanted me to catch
+them.”</p>
+
+<p>“What did you do when you made this discovery?”</p>
+
+<p>“The first time I didn’t do anything; I was too scared and
+sick and surprised. I didn’t know men did things like that—you
+know, not the men you married—not decent ones that were
+your brother’s best friends, like Adolph. Other men, might, but
+not them. I didn’t do anything but cry some at night. But the
+next time I saw them I wasn’t so surprised, and I was mad
+right through to my bones. I jumped right in and told both of
+them what I thought of them, and then I went right straight
+to Mrs. Ives and told her I was leaving the minute she could
+get someone else, and I told her why too. I told her she could
+keep Adolph, but not me.”</p>
+
+<p>“What happened then?”</p>
+
+<p>“Then she sent for Melanie and Adolph and they both
+said it wasn’t so.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour——”</p>
+
+<p>“Never mind what anyone said, Mrs. Platz; just tell us
+what happened.”</p>
+
+<p>“I couldn’t do that without telling you what we were all
+saying, sir. We were all talking at once, you see, and——”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. Well, suppose you just tell us what happened as a
+result of this conference?”</p>
+
+<p>“Adolph and I left, sir. I wouldn’t have stayed no matter
+what happened after all that—not with me a laughingstock of
+all those servants for being such a dumbbell about what was
+going on. And Mrs. Ives didn’t want Adolph without me,
+so he came too. There wasn’t any way Mrs. Ives could tell
+which of us was speaking the truth, so she didn’t try; but all
+the same, she gave Melanie as good a dressing down as——”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, yes, exactly. Now just what happened after you left
+Mrs. Ives, Mrs. Platz?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, after that, sir, we had a pretty hard time. We
+weren’t happy, you see. I couldn’t forget, and that made it
+bad for us; and I guess he couldn’t either. Maybe he didn’t
+want to.”</p>
+
+<p>The flood gates, long closed, were open at last. The small,
+quiet, tidy person in the witness box was pouring out all her sore
+heart, oblivious to straining ears, conscious only of the ruddy
+and reassuring countenance before her.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m sorry, Mrs. Platz, but we aren’t permitted to learn
+the opinions that you formed or the conclusions that you
+reached. We just want the actual incidents that occurred. Now
+will you just try to do that?”</p>
+
+<p>The frustrated, troubled eyes met his honestly. “Well, I’ll
+try, but that sounds pretty hard, sir. What was it you wanted
+to know?”</p>
+
+<p>“Just what you did when you left Mrs. Ives.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir. Well, first we tried to get a job together, but we
+didn’t get much of a one. It was a family of seven, and we did
+all the work, and Dolph didn’t like it at all; so when spring
+came he decided to take a position as gardener on Long Island
+at Oyster Bay, where they wanted a single man to sleep in the
+garage. We fixed it up so that I was to take a job at Locust
+Valley as chambermaid, and we’d spend Sundays together, and
+evenings, too, sometimes. It looked like a pretty good plan, the
+way things were going, and it didn’t work out so bad until I
+got that letter.”</p>
+
+<p>“You haven’t told us about any letter, Mrs. Platz.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir, I haven’t, that’s a fact. Do you want that I should
+tell you now?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I don’t want you to get ahead of your story. Before
+you go on, I’d like to clear up one thing. What was the date
+on which your husband took this position?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was the first of April, 1926. I didn’t get mine till about
+two weeks later.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you consider that he had left you for good at that
+time—deserted you, I mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“I certainly didn’t understand any such a thing.” A spark
+shone in Mrs. Platz’s mild eye. “He came to see me every
+Sunday of his life just like clockwork, and about once a week
+besides.”</p>
+
+<p>“He had talked of leaving you?”</p>
+
+<p>“He certainly didn’t, except once in a while when both of
+us was mad and didn’t mean anything we said—like he’d say
+if I didn’t quit nagging he’d walk out and leave me cold, and
+I’d say nothing would give me any more pleasure—you know,
+like married people do sometimes.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert permitted himself a wintry smile.</p>
+
+<p>“Quite. Divorce was not contemplated by either of you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir, we couldn’t contemplate anything like that.
+Divorces cost something dreadful; and besides, we hadn’t been
+married no more than a year about.” Mrs. Platz blinked
+valiantly through the straw-coloured lashes, her mouth screwed
+to a small, watery smile.</p>
+
+<p>“So, at the time you were speaking of, your relations with
+your husband were amiable enough, were they?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir; I don’t have any complaints to make. Everything
+was nicer than it had been since the fall before.”</p>
+
+<p>“What changed your relations?”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Platz, the painful flush mounting once more, fixed
+her eyes resolutely on the little patch of floor between her and
+Mr. Lambert.</p>
+
+<p>“It was that——”</p>
+
+<p>“Just a little louder, please. We all want to hear you, you
+know.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was that waitress of Mrs. Ives’. She sent for him to come
+back.”</p>
+
+<p>“How do you know that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I’ll tell you how I know it.” Mrs. Platz leaned
+forward confidentially. It was good, said her quick, eager
+voice—after all these weary months of silence, it was good to find
+a friend to listen to this ugly story. “This was the way: Sunday
+evening came around and he hadn’t never turned up at all.”</p>
+
+<p>“Sunday of what date?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sunday, June twentieth, sir. I didn’t know what in the
+world to make of it, but Tuesday morning, what do I get but a
+letter from Dolph saying that——”</p>
+
+<p>“Have you still got that letter?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“Have you got it with you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir.” Mrs. Platz dipped resourcefully into her shiny
+black leather bag and produced a soiled bit of blue notepaper.</p>
+
+<p>“This is the original document?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“In your husband’s handwriting?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour, I ask to have this note marked for
+identification, after which I offer it in evidence.”</p>
+
+<p>“Just one moment, Your Honour. May I ask on what
+grounds the correspondence of the Platz family is being
+introduced into this case?”</p>
+
+<p>“If Your Honour will permit me, I’ll explain why these
+documents are being introduced,” remarked Mr. Lambert
+briskly. “They are being introduced in order to attack the
+credibility of one of the prosecutor’s star witnesses; they are being
+introduced in order to prove conclusively and specifically that
+Miss Melanie Cordier is a liar, a perjurer, and a despoiler of
+homes. I again offer this letter in evidence—I shall have
+another one to offer later.”</p>
+
+<p>Judge Carver eyed the blue scrap in Mr. Lambert’s fingers
+with an expression of deep distaste. “You say that this proves
+that the witness was guilty of perjury?”</p>
+
+<p>“I do, Your Honour.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, it may be admitted.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Farr permitted himself a gesture of profound
+annoyance, hastily buried under a resigned shrug. “Very well, Your
+Honour, no objection.”</p>
+
+<p>“The envelope containing this letter is postmarked Atlantic
+City, June 20, 1926,” remarked Mr. Lambert with unction.
+“It says:</p>
+
+<blockquote class="letter">
+
+<p class="salutation">“Dear Frieda:</p>
+
+<p>“Well, you will be surprised to get this, I guess, and none too
+pleased either, which I am not blaming you for. The fact is that I
+have decided that we had better not see anything more of each other,
+because Melanie and I, we have decided that we can’t get along any
+longer without each other and so she has come to me and I have got
+to look after her.</p>
+
+<p>“The reason that I did not come to see you this week-end was
+that I went out to Rosemont to see her and she had got in wrong
+with Mrs. Ives and she was in a dreadful state about this Mrs.
+Bellamy being killed, and she is very delicate, so I am going to see
+that she gets a good rest.</p>
+
+<p>“I hope that you will not feel too bad, as this is the best way.
+Melanie does not know that I am writing, as she is of a very jealous
+nature and does not want me writing any letters to you, so no more
+after this one, but I want everything to be square and aboveboard,
+because that is how I am. It won’t do you any good to look for me,
+so you can save yourself the trouble, because no matter how often
+you found me, I wouldn’t come back, as Melanie is very delicate and
+needs me. Hoping that you have no hard feelings toward me, as I
+haven’t any toward you,</p>
+
+<p class="valediction">“Yours truly,</p>
+<p class="signature">“Adolph Platz.”</p>
+
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Adolph Platz’s wife sat listening to this ingenuous document
+with an inscrutable expression on her small, colourless face. It
+was impossible to tell whether, in spite of the amiable
+injunctions of the surprising Mr. Platz, she yielded to the
+indulgence of hard feelings or not.</p>
+
+<p>“Have you ever seen Mr. Platz since the receipt of this
+letter, Mrs. Platz?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you ever try to find him?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir, I didn’t; but my brother Gus did. He was set
+on finding him, and he spent all his holidays looking in Atlantic
+City. He said that he hadn’t any hard feelings against him, but
+it certainly would be a real treat to break every bone in his
+body.”</p>
+
+<p>“And did he?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no, sir, I don’t believe that he broke any bones—not
+actually broke them.”</p>
+
+<p>“I mean—did he find him?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, sir, he found him in a very nice boarding house
+called Sunrise Lodge.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, exactly. Was Miss Cordier with him?”</p>
+
+<p>The colourless face burned suddenly, painfully. “Yes, sir,
+she was.”</p>
+
+<p>“Now did you ever hear from this husband of yours again,
+Mrs. Platz?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“When?”</p>
+
+<p>“In September—over a month ago.”</p>
+
+<p>“Have you got the letter with you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have, sir—right here.”</p>
+
+<p>“I offer this in evidence too.”</p>
+
+<p>“No objection,” said Mr. Farr bitterly. “I should appreciate
+the opportunity of inspecting these letters after Court adjourns,
+however.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, gladly, gladly,” cried Mr. Lambert, sonorously jocose.
+“More than happy to afford you the opportunity. Now the
+envelope of this letter is postmarked New York, September 21,
+1926. It says:</p>
+
+<blockquote class="letter">
+
+<p class="salutation">“Dear Frieda:</p>
+
+<p>“Well, this is to say that by the time you get this I will be on my
+way to Canada. I have a first-class opportunity to get into a trucking
+business up there that has all kinds of possibilities, if you get what I
+mean, and I think it is better for all concerned if I start in on a
+new life, as you might say, as the old one was not so good. Melanie
+thinks so, too, as she is very sensitive about all these things that have
+happened, and she thinks that it would be much nicer to start a new
+life too. She will join me when she is through being subpœnaed for
+this Bellamy trial, which is all pretty fierce, wouldn’t you say so too.
+She doesn’t know that I am writing you, because she is still jealous,
+but I thought I would like you to know for the sake of old times, as
+you might say, and also so that you can let Gus know that it won’t
+do him any good to go looking for me any more. He will probably
+see that if you explain how I am starting this new life in Canada.
+Hoping that this finds you as it leaves me,</p>
+
+<p class="valediction">“Yours truly,</p>
+<p class="signature">“Adolph Platz.”</p>
+
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>“Have you ever heard from your husband since you received
+this letter, Mrs. Platz?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ever heard of him?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, that will be all. Cross-examine.”</p>
+
+<p>“No questions,” said Mr. Farr indifferently, and the small,
+unhappy shadow that had been Adolph Platz’s wife was gone.</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” said the reporter judicially to the red-headed girl,
+“you have to grant him one thing. He knows when to leave bad
+enough alone.”</p>
+
+<p>“Call Mrs. Shea.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Timothy Shea!”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Timothy Shea advanced belligerently toward the
+witness box, her forbidding countenance inappropriately decorated
+with a large lace turban enhanced with obese violets and a
+jet butterfly. She seated herself solidly, thumped a black beaded
+bag on to the rail before her and breathed audibly through an
+impressive nose.</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Shea, what is your occupation?”</p>
+
+<p>“I keep a boarding house in Atlantic City—known far and
+wide as the decentest in that place or in any other, as well as
+the most genteel and the best table.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. Just answer the question, please. Never mind the rest.
+Were you——”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll thank you to let me be after telling the truth,” said Mrs.
+Shea, raising her voice to an unexpected volume. “It’s the
+truth I swore to tell and the truth I’m after telling. The
+decentest and the——”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, undoubtedly,” said Mr. Lambert hastily. “But what I
+wanted to know was whether you were in court at the time that
+Miss Cordier was testifying?”</p>
+
+<p>“I was there. It will be a long day before I forget that day,
+and you may well say so.”</p>
+
+<p>“Had you seen her before?”</p>
+
+<p>“Had I seen her before?” inquired Mrs. Shea with a loud
+and melodramatic laugh. “Every day of my life for close on
+three months, mincing around with her eyes on the ground
+and her nose in the air as fine as you please, more shame to
+her.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you know her as Miss Cordier?”</p>
+
+<p>“I did not.”</p>
+
+<p>“Under what name did you know her?”</p>
+
+<p>“Under the name she gave me and every other living soul
+in the place—the name of Mrs. Adolph Platz, that ought to
+have burned the skin off her tongue to use it.”</p>
+
+<p>“She and Mr. Platz lived with you as man and wife?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I ought to have lived in this world long enough to
+know that no man and his wife would go on forever playing
+the love-sick fools like those two,” remarked Mrs. Shea
+grimly. “But I thought they were new wed and would soon
+be over it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was Mr. Platz staying with you regularly?”</p>
+
+<p>“Seven days and nights of the week.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did he pay you regularly?”</p>
+
+<p>“He did that!”</p>
+
+<p>“Did he seem to have a regular profession?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that’s all whether you’d call bootlegging a regular
+profession.”</p>
+
+<p>“Now, Your Honour,” remonstrated Mr. Farr, who had
+been following this absorbing recital with an air of possibly
+fictitious boredom, “I don’t want to indulge in any legal
+hairsplitting, but surely a line should be drawn somewhere when
+it comes to this type of baseless slander and innuendo.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do I understand that you have evidence of Mr. Platz’s
+activities?” inquired Judge Carver severely.</p>
+
+<p>“The evidence of two eyes and two ears and a nose,”
+remarked Mrs. Shea with spirit. “Goings and comings and
+doings such as——”</p>
+
+<p>“That will do, Mrs. Shea. The question hardly seems
+material. It is excluded. You may take your exception, Mr.
+Lambert.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert, thus prematurely adjured, stared indignantly
+about him and returned somewhat uncertainly to his task.</p>
+
+<p>“Is it a fact that Mr. Platz’s relationship with Miss Cordier
+during their sojourn under your roof was simply that of a
+friend?”</p>
+
+<p>“Fact!” Mrs. Shea snorted derisively. “ ’Tis a black-hearted
+lie off a black-hearted baggage. Friend, indeed!”</p>
+
+<p>“That will do, Mrs. Shea,” said Judge Carver ominously.
+“Mr. Lambert, I request you to keep your witness in hand.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is my endeavour to do so,” replied Mr. Lambert with
+some sincerity and much dignity. “I will be greatly obliged,
+Mrs. Shea, if you omit any comments or characterizations
+from your replies. Will you be good enough to give us the
+day when you first discovered that Mrs. Cordier and Mr. Platz
+were not married?”</p>
+
+<p>“September seventeenth.”</p>
+
+<p>“Have you any way of fixing the date?”</p>
+
+<p>“You may well say so. Wasn’t it six years since Tim Shea
+died, and didn’t that big tall Swede come roaring down there
+saying that the two of them was no more married than Jackie
+Coogan and the Queen of Spain, and that he was going to beat
+the life out of his dear brother-in-law, Mr. Adolph Platz? And
+didn’t he go and do it, without so much as by your leave or
+saving your presence, and in the decentest and——”</p>
+
+<p>“Madam!” Judge Carver’s tone would have daunted
+Boadicea.</p>
+
+<p>“And are those what you call comments and
+characterizations?” inquired Mrs. Shea indignantly. “Well, God save us
+all!”</p>
+
+<p>“That will be all, thank you, Mrs. Shea,” said Mr. Lambert
+hastily. “Cross-examine.”</p>
+
+<p>“No questions,” said Mr. Farr with simple fervour. Mrs.
+Shea, looking baffled but menacing, moved forward with a
+majestic stride, leaving the courtroom in a state of freely
+expressed delight. Across the hum of their voices boomed Mr.
+Lambert’s suddenly impressive summons.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Bellamy, will you be good enough to take the stand?”</p>
+
+<p>Very quietly he came, the man who had been sitting there
+so motionless for so many days for them to gape their fill at,
+moving forward now to afford them better fare. Dark-eyed,
+low-voiced, courteous, and grave, he advanced toward the place of
+trial with an unhurried tread. In the lift of his head there was
+something curiously and effortlessly noble, thought the
+red-headed girl. Murderers should not hold their heads like that.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Bellamy, where were you on the night of June
+nineteenth at nine-thirty o’clock?”</p>
+
+<p>The proverbial dropped pin would have made a prodigious
+clatter in the silence that hovered over the waiting courtroom.</p>
+
+<p>“I was in my car on the River Road, about a mile or so
+from Lakedale.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were not in the neighbourhood of the Thorne estate,
+Orchards?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not within ten miles—twelve, perhaps, would be more
+accurate?”</p>
+
+<p>“Was anyone with you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; Mrs. Patrick Ives was with me.”</p>
+
+<p>“You have a way of fixing the time?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have.”</p>
+
+<p>“I will ask you to do so later. Will you tell us now at
+what time you left the Rosemont Country Club?”</p>
+
+<p>“At a little before six, I think. We dined at quarter to
+seven, and my wife always dressed before dinner.”</p>
+
+<p>“Had you noticed Mr. Farwell in conversation with Mrs.
+Ives before you left?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; my wife had called my attention to the fact that
+they seemed deeply absorbed in a conversation on the club
+steps.”</p>
+
+<p>“Just how did she call your attention to it?”</p>
+
+<p>“She said, ‘Oh, look, El’s got another girl!’ ”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you make any comment on that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; I said, ‘That’s clear gain for you, darling’——” He
+caught himself up, olive skin a tone paler, teeth deep in his
+lip. “I said, ‘That’s clear gain for you, but a bit hard on Sue.’ ”</p>
+
+<p>“You were aware of Mr. Farwell’s devotion to your wife?”</p>
+
+<p>Behind Stephen Bellamy’s tragic eyes someone smiled,
+charming, tolerant, ironic—and was gone.</p>
+
+<p>“It was impossible to be unaware of it. Mr. Farwell was
+candour itself on the subject, even with those who would have
+been more grateful for reticence.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your wife made no attempt to conceal it?”</p>
+
+<p>“To conceal it? Oh, no. There was nothing whatever to
+conceal; his infatuation for Mimi was common property. She
+laughed about it, though I think that sometimes it annoyed
+her.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did she ever mention getting a divorce in order to marry
+Farwell?”</p>
+
+<p>“A divorce? Mimi?” His eyes, blankly incredulous, met Mr.
+Lambert’s inquiring gaze. After a moment, he said, slowly and
+evenly, “No, she never mentioned a divorce.”</p>
+
+<p>“If she had asked for one, would you have granted it to
+her?”</p>
+
+<p>“I would have granted her anything that she asked for.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you would have been surprised?”</p>
+
+<p>Stephen Bellamy smiled with white lips. “ ‘Surprised’ is
+rather an inadequate word.” He sought for one more
+adequate—failed—and dismissed it with an eloquent motion of his hands.
+“I should have been more—well, astounded than it is possible
+for me to say.”</p>
+
+<p>“So you had no inkling that your wife was contemplating
+any such action?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not the faintest, not the——” Once more he pulled
+himself up, and after a moment’s pause, he leaned forward. “That,
+too, sounds ridiculously inadequate. I should like to make
+myself quite clear; apparently I haven’t succeeded in doing so.
+I believed my wife to be completely happy. You see, I
+believed that she loved me.”</p>
+
+<p>He was pale enough now to gratify the most exigent
+reporter of emotions, but his pleasant, leisurely voice did not
+falter, and it was the ruddy Lambert, not he, who seemed
+embarrassed.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, quite so—naturally. I wished simply to establish the
+fact that you were not in her confidence as to her—er—attitude
+toward Mr. Ives. Now, Mr. Bellamy, I am going to ask you
+to tell us as directly and concisely as possible just what
+happened from the time that you and Mrs. Bellamy finished
+dinner that evening up to the time that you retired for the night.”</p>
+
+<p>“I did not retire for the night.”</p>
+
+<p>“I beg your pardon?”</p>
+
+<p>“I said that I did not retire for the night. Sleep was
+entirely out of the question, and I didn’t care to go up to
+our—to my room.”</p>
+
+<p>“Naturally—quite so. I will reframe my question. Will you
+be good enough to tell us what occurred on the evening of
+June nineteenth from the conclusion of dinner to, say, eleven
+o’clock?”</p>
+
+<p>“I will do my best. I’m afraid that I haven’t an especially
+good memory for details. Mimi had said on the way home from
+the club that she had told the Conroys that she would join
+them after dinner at the movies in Rosemont. Quite a party were
+going, and I asked if they were going to stop by for her. She
+said no; that she had arranged to meet them at the theatre, as
+there was no room in their car. I suggested that I drive her
+over, and she said not to bother, as I’d have to walk back,
+because she wanted to keep the car; but I told her that I didn’t
+mind the walk and that I wanted to pick up some tobacco and a
+paper in the village.</p>
+
+<p>“After dinner we went out to the garage together; the
+self-starter hadn’t been working very well, and just as I got it
+started, Mimi called my attention to the fact that one of the
+rear tires was flat. She asked what time it was, and when I
+told her that it was five minutes to eight, she said that there
+wouldn’t be time to change the tire, but that if she hurried
+she could catch the Conroys and make them give her a lift,
+even if they were crowded. They lived only about five minutes
+from us.”</p>
+
+<p>“North of you or south of you, Mr. Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>“North of us—away from the village, toward the club.
+I wanted to go with her, but she said that it would be
+awkward for me to get away if I turned up there, and it was only
+a five-minute walk in broad daylight. So then I let her go.”</p>
+
+<p>He sat silent, staring after that light swift figure, slipping
+farther away from him—farther—farther still.</p>
+
+<p>“You did not accompany her to the gate?”</p>
+
+<p>Stephen Bellamy jerked back those wandering eyes. “I beg
+your pardon?”</p>
+
+<p>“You didn’t accompany her to the gate?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. I was looking over the tire to see whether I could
+locate the damage; I was particularly anxious to get it in shape
+if I could, because we were planning to motor over next day
+to a nursery in Lakedale to get some things for the garden—some
+little lilacs and flowering almonds and some privet for
+a hedge that we——” He broke off abruptly, and after a
+moment said gently, “I beg your pardon; that’s got absolutely
+nothing to do with it, of course. What I was trying to explain
+was that I was endeavouring to locate the tire trouble. In a
+minute or so I did.”</p>
+
+<p>“You ascertained its nature?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; there was a cut in it—a small, sharp cut about half
+an inch long.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is that a usual tire injury?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am not a tire expert, but it seemed to me highly unusual.
+I didn’t give it much thought, however, except to wonder what
+in the world I’d gone over to cause a thing like that. I was in
+a hurry to get it fixed, as I said, and I remembered that I’d
+seen Orsini standing by the gate as we went by to the garage.
+I went out to ask him to get me a hand, but he’d started
+down the road toward Rosemont. I could see him quite a bit
+off, hurrying along, and I remembered that we’d given him the
+evening off. So I went back to the garage, took my coat off and
+got to work myself. I’d just got the shoe off when I heard——”</p>
+
+<p>“Just a minute, Mr. Bellamy. Did you see Mrs. Bellamy
+again when you went to the gate?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no; she’d been gone several minutes; and in any case
+there is a jog in the road two or three hundred feet north of
+our house that would have concealed her completely.”</p>
+
+<p>“She was headed in the general direction of Orchards?”</p>
+
+<p>“In the direction of Orchards—yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was along this route that the Perrytown bus passed?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Please continue.”</p>
+
+<p>“As I was saying, I had succeeded in getting the shoe off
+when I heard the telephone ringing in the library of our house.
+I dropped everything and went in to answer it, as there was
+no one else in the house.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who was on the telephone, Mr. Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was Sue—Mrs. Ives. She wanted to know if Mimi was
+at home.”</p>
+
+<p>“Will you give us the conversation, to the best of your
+recollection?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. I said that she was not; that she had gone to the
+movies in Rosemont with the Conroys. Mrs. Ives asked how
+long she had been gone. I told her possibly ten or fifteen
+minutes. She asked me if I was sure that she had gone there, and
+I said perfectly sure, and asked her what in the world she was
+talking about. She said that it was essential to see me at once,
+and asked if I could get there in ten minutes. I said not quite
+as soon as that, as I was changing a tire, but that I thought
+that I could make it in fifteen or twenty. She asked me to
+meet her at the back road, and then—yes, then she asked me if
+Elliot had said anything to me. I said, ‘Sue, for God’s sake,
+what’s all this about?’ And she said never mind, to hurry, or
+something like that, and rang off before I could say anything
+more.”</p>
+
+<p>“What did you do next, Mr. Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, for a minute I didn’t know what to do—I was too
+absolutely dumfounded by the entire performance. And then,
+quite suddenly, I had a horrible conviction that something
+had happened to Mimi, and that Sue was trying to break it to
+me. I felt absolutely mad with terror, and then I thought that
+if I could get Mrs. Conroy on the telephone there was just
+a chance that they mightn’t have left yet, or that maybe some
+of the servants might have seen Mimi come in and could tell
+me that she was all right.</p>
+
+<p>“Anyway, I rang up, and Nell Conroy answered the ’phone,
+and said no, that Mimi hadn’t turned up; and that anyway they
+had told her not to meet them till eight-thirty, because the
+feature film didn’t go on till then. I said that Mimi must have
+made a mistake—that she’d probably gone to the
+theatre—something—anything—I don’t remember. All that I do
+remember is that I rang off somehow and stood there literally sweating
+with terror, trying to think what to do next. I remember
+putting my hand up to loosen my collar and finding it drenched;
+I’d forgotten all about Sue. All I could remember was that
+something must have happened to Mimi, and that she might
+need me, and that I didn’t know where she was. And then
+I remembered that Sue had told me to hurry and that she could
+explain everything. I tore out to the garage and went at the
+new tire like a maniac; it didn’t take me more than about eight
+minutes to get it on, and not more than three or four more
+to get over to the back road where I was to meet Sue. I didn’t
+pay much attention to speed limits.”</p>
+
+<p>“Just where is this road, Mr. Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I don’t know whether I can make it clear. It’s a
+connecting road out of Rosemont between the main highway—the
+Perrytown Road, you know—and a parallel road about five
+miles west, called the River Road, that leads to Lakedale. It
+runs by about a quarter mile back of the Ives’ house.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you arrive at this back road before Mrs. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. Mrs. Ives was waiting for me when I got there. I
+asked her whether she had been there long, and she said only
+a minute or two. I asked her then whether anything had
+happened to Mimi. She said, ‘What do you mean—happened to
+her?’ I said an accident of any kind, and added that I’d been
+practically off my head ever since she had telephoned, as I
+had called up the Conroys and discovered that she wasn’t there.
+Sue said, ‘So Elliot was right!’ She had been standing by the
+side of the car, talking, but when she said that, she looked
+around her quickly and stepped into the seat beside me. She
+said, ‘I’d rather not have anyone see us just now. Let’s drive
+over to the River Road. Mimi hasn’t been hurt, Steve. She’s
+gone to meet Pat at Orchards.’ I was so thunderstruck, and so
+immensely, so incalculably, relieved that Mimi wasn’t hurt that
+I laughed out loud. That sounds ridiculous, but it’s true. I
+laughed, and Sue said, ‘Don’t laugh, Steve; Mimi’s having an
+affair with Pat—she’s been having one for weeks. They don’t
+love us—they love each other.’ I said, ‘That’s a damned silly
+lie. Who told it to you—Elliot Farwell?’ ”</p>
+
+<p>“Were you driving at the time that this conversation took
+place?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, we were well up the back road. I’d started the
+minute she asked me to. Shall I go on?”</p>
+
+<p>“Please.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you want the whole conversation?”</p>
+
+<p>“Everything that was said as to the relations of Mrs.
+Bellamy and Mr. Ives.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well. She told me that unfortunately it was no lie; that
+for several weeks they had been using the gardener’s cottage
+at Orchards for a place of rendezvous, and that Farwell had
+even seen them going there. I said that it made no difference to
+me whatever what Farwell had seen—that I wouldn’t believe
+it if I had seen it myself. I asked her if Farwell hadn’t been
+drinking when he told her this, and she said yes—that unless
+he had been he wouldn’t have told her. I asked her if she
+didn’t know that Elliot Farwell was an abject idiot about Mimi,
+and she said, ‘Oh, Stephen, not so abject an idiot as you—you
+who won’t even listen to the truth that you don’t want to hear.’
+I said ‘I’ll listen to anything that you want to tell me, but
+truth isn’t what you hear—it’s what you believe. I don’t believe
+that Mimi doesn’t love me.’</p>
+
+<p>“She said, ‘Where is she now, Steve?’ And I said, ‘At the
+movies. She probably met someone on the road who gave her a
+lift; or else she decided to walk straight there, as she knew
+that the Conroys’ car would be crowded.’ She said, ‘She’s not
+at the movies. She’s waiting for Pat in the gardener’s cottage.’
+I said, ‘And has Pat gone to meet her?’ And she said, ‘No, this
+time he hasn’t gone to meet her.’ I said, ‘What makes you think
+that?’ Sue said, ‘I don’t think it; I know it.’ I said, ‘Oh, yes,
+he was going to Dallases to play poker, wasn’t he?’ And after
+a moment she said, ‘Yes, that’s where he said he was going.
+I happened to know that there’s been a slip in their plan to
+meet to-night.’</p>
+
+<p>“Then she told me that she believed they were planning to
+run away, and that the reason she had wanted to see me was to
+tell me that she would never give Pat a divorce as long as
+she lived, and she thought if I told Mimi that before it was
+too late it might stop her.</p>
+
+<p>“We’d reached the River Road by this time, and were well
+on our way to Lakedale, and I said, ‘Sue, we’ve talked enough
+nonsense for to-night; I’ll tell you what we’ll do. We’re
+running low on gas, and when we get to Lakedale we’ll get some,
+turn around and head back for Rosemont. We can see whether
+the movies are out as we go through the village, and if they
+aren’t, you can come back to our house and wait for a minute
+or so until Mimi gets there. Then you can put the whole thing
+up to her and take your punishment like a lady when you find
+what a goose you’ve been. Is that a bargain?’ And she said, ‘All
+right, that’s a bargain.’</p>
+
+<p>“We’d been driving pretty slowly, so that it was after nine
+when we got into Lakedale; there were two or three people
+ahead of us at the gas station—Saturday night, you know—and
+Sue was very thirsty, so we asked the man at the gas pump
+if he could get her some water, and he did. I noticed him
+particularly, because he had the reddest hair that I’ve ever seen
+on a human being. We were at the station about ten minutes,
+and I looked at my watch just as we left. It said twenty
+minutes past nine.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was your watch correct, Mr. Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>“Absolutely! I check it every day at the station.”</p>
+
+<p>“How long a drive is it from Lakedale to Rosemont?”</p>
+
+<p>“Under half an hour—it’s around nine miles.”</p>
+
+<p>“And to Orchards from Lakedale?”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s close to twelve—Orchards is about three miles north
+of Rosemont.”</p>
+
+<p>“Quite so. Now will you be good enough to continue with
+your story?”</p>
+
+<p>“We hardly talked at all on our way back to Rosemont. I
+remember that Sue asked whether we wouldn’t get there
+before the film was over, and I said, ‘Probably.’ But as a matter
+of fact, we didn’t. We got to Rosemont at about five minutes
+to ten, and the theatre was dark. There were no cars in front
+of it and the doors were locked. I said, ‘She’ll probably be at
+the house,’ and Sue said, ‘If she isn’t, I think that it will look
+decidedly queer to have me dropping in there at this time of
+night.’ I said, ‘There’ll be no one there to see you; Nellie’s gone
+home to her mother and Orsini went to New York at
+eight-fifteen.’</p>
+
+<p>“It takes only three or four minutes from the theatre to the
+house, and just as we started to turn in at the gate Sue said,
+‘You’re wrong; there’s a light in the garage.’ I looked up
+quickly, and there wasn’t a sign of a light. I laughed and said,
+‘Don’t let things get on your nerves, Sue; I tell you that I saw
+him going to the train.’ And I helped her out of the car. There
+was a light in the hall, and as I opened the door I called ‘Mimi!’
+No one answered, and then I remembered that I’d left it
+burning when I went out. I said, ‘Come in. She must be over at
+the Conroys’. I’ll call up and get her over.’ ”</p>
+
+<hr>
+
+<p>“So far so good,” said the reporter contentedly. “If Mr.
+Stephen Bellamy isn’t telling the truth, he’s as fertile and
+resourceful a liar as has crossed my trail in these many moons.
+Do you feel better?”</p>
+
+<p>“Better than best,” the red-headed girl assured him fervently.
+“Only I wish that Bellamy girl had died a long time ago.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you indeed?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I do indeed—about twenty years ago, before she got
+out of socks and hair ribbons and started in breaking men’s
+hearts. Elliot Farwell and Patrick Ives and Stephen Bellamy—even
+that little bus driver looked bewitched. Of course I
+ought to be sorry she’s dead—but truly she wasn’t good for very
+much, was she?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not very much. The ones who are good for very much
+aren’t generally particularly heartbreaking.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’d probably be as bad as any of them,” said the
+red-headed girl darkly, and relapsed into silence.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m universally rated rather high on susceptibility,”
+admitted the reporter with modest pride. “Did you sleep better
+last night?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not any better at all.”</p>
+
+<p>“Look here, are you telling me that after reducing me to
+a state of apprehension that resulted in my spending six
+dollars and thirty-five cents, and two hours and twenty minutes
+of invaluable time in a hired flivver in order to cure you of
+insomnia, you went back to that gas log of yours and worked
+half the night and had it again? Didn’t you solemnly
+swear——”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not ever solemn when I swear. I didn’t work after
+twelve. If you paid six thousand dollars for it, it was a
+tremendous bargain. It was the nicest ride I ever took. That was
+why I didn’t sleep.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mollifying though mendacious,” said the reporter critically.
+“Are you by any chance a flirt?”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl eyed him thoughtfully. After quite a
+lengthy period of contemplation she seemed to arrive at a
+decision. “No,” she said gravely, “I’m not a flirt.”</p>
+
+<p>“In that case,” said the reporter quite as gravely, “I’m
+going to get you some lunch. And if Sue Ives decides to confess
+to the entire newspaper fraternity that it really was she who
+did it, after all, I’m not going to be there—I’m going to be
+bringing your lunch back to you because you’re not a flirt.
+Do I make myself clear?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, thank you,” said the red-headed girl.</p>
+
+<p>She sat staring after him with round bright eyes that she
+was finding increasingly difficult to keep open. What was it
+that she had said that first day—that day that seemed so many,
+many days ago? Something about a murder story and a love
+story being the most enthralling combination in the world?
+Well—— The red-headed girl looked around her guiltily,
+wondering if she looked as pink as she felt. It was frightful
+to be so sleepy. It was frightful and ridiculous not to be able
+to sleep any more because of the troubles and passions of half
+a dozen people that you’d never laid eyes on in your life, and
+didn’t really know from Adam and Eve—or Cain and Abel
+were better, perhaps. What’s he to Hecuba or Hecuba to him?
+What indeed? She yawned despairingly.</p>
+
+<p>No, but that wasn’t true—you did know them—a hundred
+times—a thousand times better than people that lived next to
+you all the days of their lives. That was what gave a trial its
+mysterious and terrible charm; curiosity is a hunger in
+everyone alive, and here the sides of the houses were lifted off and
+you saw them moving about as though they were alone. You
+knew—oh, you knew everything! You knew that little Pat
+Ives had sold papers in the streets and that he carved ships,
+and that once he had played the ukulele and had taken Mimi
+Dawson riding on spring nights.</p>
+
+<p>You knew that Sue Ives had gone to church in little cotton
+gloves when she was six years old, and that she had a coat of
+cream-coloured flannel, and poor relations in Arizona, and a
+rose garden beyond the study window. You knew that Stephen
+Bellamy dined at quarter to seven and had a small car, and
+flowering almonds in his garden, and a wife who was more
+beautiful than a dream, with silver slippers and
+sapphire-and-diamond rings. You knew that Laura Roberts turned down
+the beds on the chambermaid’s night out and had a gentleman
+friend in the village and that—and that——</p>
+
+<p>“Wake up!” said the reporter’s voice urgently. “Here are
+the sandwiches. I broke both legs trying to get back through
+that crowd. . . . Oh, Lord, here’s the Court! Too
+late—hide ’em!”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl hid them with a glance of unfeigned
+reluctance.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Bellamy,” inquired Mr. Lambert happily, “you were
+telling us that you went into your house. What occurred next?”</p>
+
+<p>“I went straight to the telephone and called up Mrs.
+Conroy. She answered the telephone herself, and I said, ‘Can I
+speak to Mimi for a moment, Nell?’ She said, ‘Why, Steve,
+Mimi isn’t here. The show got out early and we waited for
+about five minutes to make sure that she wasn’t there. I thought
+that she must have decided not to come.’ I said, ‘Yes, that’s
+what she must have decided.’ And I rang off. That same terror
+had me again; I felt cold to my bones. I said. ‘She’s not there. I
+was right the first time—something’s happened to her.’ Sue
+said, ‘Of course she’s not there. She went to the cottage.’ I
+said, ‘But you say that Pat didn’t go. She’d never wait there
+two hours for him. Maybe we’d better call up Dallas and make
+sure he’s there.’ ”</p>
+
+<p>The even voice hesitated—was silent. Mr. Lambert moved
+forward energetically. “And what did Mrs. Ives say to that?”</p>
+
+<p>“She said—she said, ‘No, that’s no good. He’s not at the
+Dallases’; he’s home.’ I said, ‘Then let’s call him up there.’ Sue
+said, ‘No, I’d rather not do that. I don’t want him to know
+about this until I decide what to do next. I give you my word
+of honour that he’s there. Isn’t that enough?’ I said all right,
+then, I’d call up the police court and the hospital to see if any
+accidents had been reported. I remember that Sue said
+something about its being premature, but none of her business.
+Neither the station nor the hospital had any information.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you give your name?”</p>
+
+<p>“Naturally. I asked them to communicate with me at once
+if they heard anything.”</p>
+
+<p>“And then what, Mr. Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>“Then—then, after that, I don’t remember much. All the
+rest of it was sheer nightmare. I do remember Sue saying that
+we might retrace the route that Mimi started over toward the
+Conroys, on the bare chance that she had had some kind of
+collapse at the roadside. But that was no good, of course. And
+finally we decided that there was nothing more to do till
+morning, and that I’d better get Sue home. I drove her back to the
+house——”</p>
+
+<p>“To your house?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, no; the Ives’ house. I dropped her at the front gate.
+I didn’t drive in. I asked her to let me know if Pat was there,
+and she said that if he were she’d turn on the light in the
+study twice. I waited outside by the car for what seemed a
+hundred years, and after a long time the light in the study went
+on once, and off, and on again and off, and I got in the car
+and drove away.”</p>
+
+<p>“What time was that, Mr. Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not sure—about quarter to eleven, perhaps. Mrs. Ives
+had asked me what time it was when we stopped at the gate.
+It was shortly after ten-thirty.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you go straight home?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not directly—no. I drove around for quite a bit, but I
+couldn’t possibly tell you for how long. It’s like trying to
+remember things in a delirium.”</p>
+
+<p>“But it was only after you heard that Mrs. Bellamy had not
+been at the movies that you were reduced to this
+condition—before that everything is quite clear?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, quite.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you are entirely clear that at the time fixed for the
+murder you and Mrs. Ives were a good ten miles away from
+the gardener’s cottage at Orchards?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nearer twelve miles, I believe.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, Mr. Bellamy; that will be all. Cross-examine.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Farr arrived in the center of the arena where sat his
+victim, pale and patient, with a motion so sudden that it
+suggested a leap. Not once had he lifted his voice during that
+long, laboriously retrieved narration. Now the courtroom was
+once more filled with its metallic clang, arresting and
+disturbing.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Bellamy, you’ve told us that the tools in the garage
+belonged to Orsini. They were perfectly accessible to anyone
+else, weren’t they?”</p>
+
+<p>“Perfectly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was Mrs. Bellamy in the garage at any time before you
+left?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, yes, I believe that she was. I remember meeting her
+as she came into the house just as I came downstairs to
+dinner—I’d gone up to wash my hands. She said she’d been out to
+the garage to see whether she’d left a package with some aspirin
+and other things from the drug store in the car. They weren’t
+there, and she asked me to call up the club the next day to see
+whether she had left them there.”</p>
+
+<p>“So that she would have been perfectly able to have made that
+incision of that tire herself?”</p>
+
+<p>“I should think so.”</p>
+
+<p>“She did not at any time suggest that you accompany her
+either to the movies or the Conroys, did she?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no.”</p>
+
+<p>“She countered such suggestions on your part, did she not,
+by saying that you would have to walk back, that it would
+be awkward for you to get away, and other excuses of that
+nature?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. My wife knew that the pictures hurt my eyes, and
+she never urged me to——”</p>
+
+<p>“No, never mind that, Mr. Bellamy. Please confine yourself
+to yes or no, whenever it is possible. It will simplify things for
+both of us. It would have been entirely possible for your wife
+to injure that tire in order to keep you from accompanying her,
+wouldn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Now, Mr. Bellamy, I want to get this perfectly correctly.
+You claim that at nine-thirty you were on the River Road
+twelve miles from Orchards. Do you mean twelve miles by way
+of the back road, Rosemont and the Perrytown Road?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Retracing your way over the route that you had previously
+taken?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“But surely you know that there is another and shorter
+route from Lakedale to Orchards, Mr. Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>“I know that there is another route—yes. I was not aware
+that it was much shorter.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, for your information I may state that it is some three
+miles shorter. Can you describe this route to us?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not very well, I’m afraid. I’m not at all familiar with
+it. I believe that it is the road that Mr. Thorne was
+speaking of having taken that night, leading into the back of
+Orchards.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your supposition is entirely correct. Now, will you tell us
+just how you get there?”</p>
+
+<p>“As I said, I’m not sure that I can. I believe that you continue
+on down the River Road until you turn off down a rather
+narrow, rough little road that leads directly to the back gates of
+Orchards. It’s practically a private road, I believe, ending at
+the estate.”</p>
+
+<p>“What is its name?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not sure, but I believe that it’s something like Thorne
+Path, or Road, or Lane—I’m pretty clear that it has the name
+Thorne in it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you’re clear about that, are you, in spite of the fact that
+you’ve never been near it?”</p>
+
+<p>“You misunderstood me evidently. I never said that I had
+never been near it. As a matter of fact, I have been over it
+several times—two or three anyway.”</p>
+
+<p>“And yet you wish us to believe that you have no idea of
+either the name or the distance?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly. It’s been a great many years since I’ve used
+it—ten, perhaps. It was at a time that I was going frequently to
+Orchards, when Mr. Thorne, Senior, was alive.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you have never used it since?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. It’s not a road that anyone would use unless he were
+going to Orchards. It’s practically a blind alley.”</p>
+
+<p>“Again I must ask you to refrain from qualifications and
+elaborations. ‘No’ is a reply to that question. The fact remains,
+doesn’t it, that here was an unobtrusive short cut to Orchards
+that you haven’t seen fit to tell us about?”</p>
+
+<p>Stephen Bellamy smiled slightly—that gracious and ironic
+smile, so oddly detached as to be disconcerting. “I’m afraid
+that I can’t answer that either yes or no—either would be
+misleading. I had completely forgotten that there was such a
+road.”</p>
+
+<p>“Completely forgotten it, had you? Had Mrs. Ives forgotten
+it too?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m sure that I don’t know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Bellamy, is not this road, known as Thorne Lane, the
+one that you and Mrs. Ives took to reach Orchards the night
+of the murder?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bellamy frowned faintly in concentration. “I beg your
+pardon?”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you not use Thorne Lane to reach Orchards on the
+night of the murder?”</p>
+
+<p>The frown vanished; for a moment, Mr. Bellamy looked
+frankly diverted. Were these, inquired his lifted brows, the
+terrors of cross-examination? “We certainly did nothing of the
+kind. I thought that I’d already explained that I hadn’t been
+over that road in ten years.”</p>
+
+<p>“I heard your explanation. Now, will you kindly explain to
+us why you didn’t use it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why?” inquired Stephen Bellamy blankly.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, consumed with anxiety as you were for the safety
+of your wife, didn’t it occur to you to go to this gardener’s
+cottage, where you were assured that she was having a
+rendezvous with another man?”</p>
+
+<p>“I was not assured of any such thing. I was most positively
+assured that Mr. Ives had not gone there to meet her. Nor
+was I in anxiety at all about my wife during my drive with
+Mrs. Ives. I believed that she had gone to the movies.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, when you found out that she wasn’t at the
+movies, why didn’t you go then to the cottage?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Ives gave me her word of honour that Mr. Ives was
+at home. It seemed incredible to both of us that she would
+have waited there for over two hours.”</p>
+
+<p>“Incredible to both of you that she could have waited? I
+thought you wished us to believe that you had such entire
+confidence in her love for you that you were perfectly convinced that
+she had never been near the cottage.”</p>
+
+<p>“I”—the whitened lips tightened resolutely—“I did not
+believe that she had been. It was simply a hypothesis that I
+accepted in desperation—a vain attempt to believe that she might
+be safe, after all.”</p>
+
+<p>“It would have consoled you to know that she was safe in
+the gardener’s cottage with Patrick Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“I would have given ten years of my life to have believed
+that she was safe and happy anywhere in the world.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your honour meant nothing to you?”</p>
+
+<p>“My honour? What had my honour to do with it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you not consider that when a man’s wife has betrayed
+him, his honour is involved and should be avenged?”</p>
+
+<p>“I believe nothing of the kind. My honour is involved only
+by my own actions, not by those of others.”</p>
+
+<p>“You would have let her go to her lover with your blessing?”</p>
+
+<p>Something flared in the dark eyes turned to the
+prosecutor’s mocking blue ones, and died. “I did not say that,” said
+Stephen Bellamy evenly.</p>
+
+<p>Judge Carver leaned forward abruptly, “Mr. Bellamy is
+entirely correct,” he said sternly. “He said nothing of the kind.”</p>
+
+<p>“I regret that I seem to have misunderstood him,” said the
+prosecutor with ominous meekness.</p>
+
+<p>“You would have prevented her?”</p>
+
+<p>“I would have begged her to try to find happiness with me.”</p>
+
+<p>“And if that had not succeeded, you would have prevented
+her?”</p>
+
+<p>“How could I have prevented her?”</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor took a step forward and lowered his voice
+to that strange pitch that carried farther than a battle cry.
+“Quite simply, Mr. Bellamy. As simply as the person who
+drove that knife to Madeleine Bellamy’s heart prevented her
+joining her lover—as simply as that.”</p>
+
+<p>Judge Carver’s gavel fell with a crash. “Let that remark be
+stricken from the record!”</p>
+
+<p>Stephen Bellamy’s head jerked back, and from somewhere
+an arm flashed out to catch him. He motioned it away,
+steadying himself carefully with an iron grip on the witness box. His
+eyes, the only things alive in his frozen face, met his enemy’s
+unswervingly.</p>
+
+<p>“I did not drive that knife to her heart.” His voice was as
+ominously distinct as the prosecutor’s.</p>
+
+<p>“But you did not raise a hand to prevent it from striking?”</p>
+
+<p>“I could not raise a hand—I was not there.”</p>
+
+<p>“You did not raise a hand?”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour!”</p>
+
+<p>Bellamy’s eyes swung steadily to the clamorous and
+distracted Lambert. “Please—I’d rather answer. I have told you
+already that I was not there, Mr. Farr. If I had been I would
+have given my life—gladly, believe me—to have prevented
+what happened.”</p>
+
+<p>Farr turned a hotly incredulous countenance to Judge
+Carver’s impassive one. “Your Honour, I ask to have that stricken
+from the record as deliberately unresponsive.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is not strictly responsive,” conceded His Honour
+dispassionately. “However, the Court feels that you had already
+received a responsive answer, so were apparently pressing for
+an elaboration. It may remain.”</p>
+
+<p>“I defer to Your Honour’s opinion,” said Mr. Farr in a
+tone so far from deferential that His Honour regarded him
+somewhat fixedly. “Mr. Bellamy, what reason did Mrs. Ives
+give you for believing that Mr. Ives was at home?”</p>
+
+<p>“She did not give me a reason; she gave me her word of
+honour.”</p>
+
+<p>“You did not press her for one?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; I considered her word better than any assurance that
+she——”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour, I have repeatedly requested the witness to
+confine himself to yes and no. I ask with all deference to have
+the Court add its instructions to that effect.”</p>
+
+<p>“Confine yourself to a direct answer whenever possible, Mr.
+Bellamy. You are not permitted to enter into explanations.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, Your Honour.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing was said about an intercepted note, Mr. Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were perfectly satisfied that she had some mysterious
+way of ascertaining that he had not gone out at all that
+evening?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“But at some time during the evening that assurance on your
+part evaporated?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t follow you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll be clearer. By the time you reached Mrs. Ives’s home—I
+believe that you’ve told us that that was at about ten-thirty—your
+confidence in her infallibility had so diminished that you
+suggested that she signal to you if Mr. Ives were actually
+there?”</p>
+
+<p>“I believe that that was her suggestion.”</p>
+
+<p>“Her suggestion? After she had given you her word of
+honour that he was there?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“You wish that to be your final statement on that subject?”</p>
+
+<p>“Wait a moment.” He looked suddenly exhausted, as though
+he had been running for a long time. “I told you that things
+were very confused from the time that I found that Mimi hadn’t
+gone to the movies. I’m trying to get it as straight as possible.
+It was some time after we had left my house—after ten, I
+mean—and before we got to hers, that I suggested there was
+just a chance that she was mistaken and that Pat had gone to
+meet her after all. Sue said she couldn’t be mistaken, and that,
+anyway, they’d never dare stay at the cottage so late—it
+wouldn’t fit in with the movie story. I suggested then that
+possibly she had been right in her idea that they had been planning
+to run away together. Possibly that was what they had done
+to-night. She said, ‘Steve, you sound as though you wish they
+had.’ I said, ‘I wish to God they had.’ Then she said, ‘I know
+that Pat hasn’t been out, but I’ll let you know definitely when
+we go home.’ It was then that she suggested the lights.”</p>
+
+<p>“It all comes back very clearly now, doesn’t it, Mr.
+Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very convenient, remembering all those noble bits about
+how you wished to God that they’d eloped, isn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know that it’s particularly noble or convenient. It’s
+the truth.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, undoubtedly. Mr. Bellamy, at what time——”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour, I protest these sneers and jeers that Mr.
+Farr is indulging in constantly. I——”</p>
+
+<p>“I simply remarked that Mr. Bellamy was undoubtedly
+telling the truth,” said Mr. Farr in dangerously meek tones. “Do
+you regard that as necessarily sarcastic?”</p>
+
+<p>“I regard your tone as sheerly outrageous. I protest——”</p>
+
+<p>“It might be just as well to make no comments on the
+witness’s replies, of either a flattering or an unflattering nature,”
+remarked Judge Carver drily. “Is there a question before the
+witness?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, Your Honour. I was not permitted to complete my
+question.”</p>
+
+<p>“It may be completed.” There was a hint of acerbity in the
+fine voice.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Bellamy, at what time, after you left Mrs. Ives at her
+house, did you return to your own?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know.” The voice was weary to the point of
+indifference.</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t know?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; the whole thing’s like a nightmare. Time doesn’t mean
+much in a nightmare.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, did this nightmare condition permit you to ascertain
+whether it was after twelve?”</p>
+
+<p>“I believe that it was later.”</p>
+
+<p>“After one?”</p>
+
+<p>“Later.”</p>
+
+<p>“How do you know that it was later?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know—because the sky was getting lighter, I
+suppose.”</p>
+
+<p>“You mean that dawn was breaking?”</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose so.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are telling us that you drove about until dawn?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am telling you that I don’t remember what I did; it was
+all a nightmare.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Bellamy, why didn’t you go home to see whether your
+wife had returned?”</p>
+
+<p>For the first time the eyes fixed on the prosecutor wavered.
+“What?”</p>
+
+<p>“You heard me, I believe.”</p>
+
+<p>“You want to know why I didn’t go back to my house?”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know—because I was more or less out of my head,
+I suppose.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were anxious to know what had become of her, weren’t
+you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Anxious!” The stiff lips wrenched themselves into something
+dreadfully like a smile.</p>
+
+<p>“Yet from eleven o’clock on you never went near your house
+to ascertain whether she had come home or been brought
+home?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“You didn’t call up the police?”</p>
+
+<p>“I told you I’d already called them up.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nor the hospital?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’d called them too.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where were they to notify you in case they had news to
+report?”</p>
+
+<p>“At my house.”</p>
+
+<p>“How were you to receive this information—this vital
+information—if you were roaming the country in an automobile?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Weren’t you interested to know whether she was dead or
+alive?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then why didn’t you go home?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have told you—I don’t know.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s your best answer?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let’s see whether I can’t help you to a better one. Isn’t the
+reason that you didn’t go home or call up the police or the
+hospital because you knew perfectly well that any information
+that anyone in the world could give you would be superfluous?”</p>
+
+<p>Stephen Bellamy focussed his weary eyes intently on the
+sardonic face only a few inches from his. “I’m sorry—I don’t
+understand what you mean.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t you? I’ll try to make it clearer. Wasn’t the reason
+that you didn’t go home the perfectly simple one that you knew
+that your wife was lying three miles away in a deserted
+cottage, soaked in blood and dead as a doornail?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, for God’s sake!” At the low, despairing violence of
+that cry some in the courtroom winced and turned away their
+faces from the ugly triumph flushing the prosecutor’s cold face.
+“I don’t know, I tell you, I don’t know. I was half crazy; I
+wasn’t thinking of reasons, I wasn’t thinking of anything except
+that Mimi was gone.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is that your best answer.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“At what time the next morning did you hear of the
+murder of your wife, Mr. Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>Slowly, carefully, fighting inch by inch back to the narrow
+plank of self-control that lay between him and destruction,
+Stephen Bellamy lifted his tired voice, his tired eyes. “I believe
+that it was about eleven o’clock.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who notified you?”</p>
+
+<p>“A trooper, I think, from the police station.”</p>
+
+<p>“Please tell us what he said.”</p>
+
+<p>“He said that Mrs. Bellamy’s body had been found in an
+empty cottage on the old Thorne estate, and that while it
+had already been identified, headquarters thought I had
+better go over and confirm it. I said that I would come at
+once.”</p>
+
+<p>“And did so?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“You saw the body?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Identified it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was clothed?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“In these garments, Mr. Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>And there, incredibly, it was again, that streaked and stiffened
+gown with its once airy ruffles, dangling over the witness box
+in reach of Stephen Bellamy’s fine long-fingered hand. After
+the first convulsive movement he sat motionless, his eyes dilated
+strangely under his level brows. “Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“These shoes?”</p>
+
+<p>Lightly as butterflies they settled on the dark rim of the
+box, so small, so gay, so preposterous, shining silver, shining
+buckles. The man in the box bent those strange eyes on them.
+After a moment, his hand moved forward, slowly, hesitantly;
+the fingers touched their rusted silver, light as a caress, and
+curved about them, a shelter and a defense.</p>
+
+<p>“These shoes,” said Stephen Bellamy.</p>
+
+<p>Somewhere in the back of the hall a woman sobbed loudly
+and hysterically, but he did not lift his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutor asked in a voice curiously gentle: “Mr.
+Bellamy, when you went into the room, was the body to the right
+or the left of the piano?”</p>
+
+<p>“To the left.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re quite sure?”</p>
+
+<p>“Absolutely.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, God!” whispered the reporter frantically. “Oh, God,
+they’ve got him!”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s strange that you should be so sure, Mr. Bellamy,”
+said the prosecutor more gently still. “Because there was no
+piano in the room to which you were taken to see the body.”</p>
+
+<p>“What?” The bent head jerked back as though a whip had
+flicked.</p>
+
+<p>“There was no piano in the dining room to which they had
+removed the body, Mr. Bellamy. The piano was in the parlour
+across the hall, where the body was first discovered.”</p>
+
+<p>“If that is so I must have seen it when I came in and
+confused it somehow.”</p>
+
+<p>“You couldn’t very well have seen it when you came in, I’m
+afraid. The door to the parlour was closed and locked so that
+the contents of the room would not be disturbed.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, then—then I must remember it from some previous
+occasion.”</p>
+
+<p>“A previous occasion? When you were never in the cottage
+before?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, no, I never said that. I never said anything like that.”
+The desperate voice rose slightly in its intensity. “I couldn’t
+have; it isn’t true. I’ve been there often—years ago, when I
+used to go over to play with Doug Thorne when we were kids.
+There was a playhouse just a few hundred feet from the cottage,
+and we used to run over to the cottage and get bread and jam
+and cookies from the old German gardener. I remember it
+absolutely; that’s probably what twisted me.”</p>
+
+<p>“But the old German gardener didn’t have any piano, Mr.
+Bellamy,” explained the prosecutor patiently. “Don’t you
+remember that Orsini particularly told us how the Italian
+gardener had just purchased it for his daughter before they went
+off on their vacation? It couldn’t have been the old German
+gardener.”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl was weeping noiselessly into a highly
+inadequate handkerchief. “Horrid, smirking, disgusting beast!”
+she intoned in a small fierce whisper. “Horrid——”</p>
+
+<p>“No? Well, then,” said the dreadful, hunted voice,
+“probably Mimi told me about it. She——”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Bellamy?” There was the slightest inflection of
+reproach in the soothing voice. “Mrs. Bellamy told you that
+her body was lying to the left of the piano as you entered the
+room? It isn’t just the piano, you see—I’m afraid that you’re
+getting a little confused. It’s the position of the body in
+relation to the piano. You’re quite correct about the position, of
+course—quite. But won’t you tell us how you were so sure
+of it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Wait, please,” said Stephen Bellamy very clearly and
+distinctly. “You’re quite right about the fact that I’m confused.
+I can see perfectly that I’m making an absolute mess of this.
+It’s principally because I haven’t had any sleep since God knows
+when, and when you don’t sleep, you——”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Bellamy, I’m sorry that I can’t let you go into that.
+Will you answer my question?”</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t answer your question. But I can tell you this, Mr.
+Farr—I can tell you that as God is my witness, Susan Ives
+and I had nothing more to do with this murder than you had.
+I——”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour! Your Honour!”</p>
+
+<p>“Be silent, sir!” Judge Carver’s voice was more imperious
+than his gavel. “You are completely forgetting yourself. Let
+that entire remark be stricken from the record. Mr. Lambert,
+be good enough to keep your witness in hand. I regard this
+entire performance as highly improper.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert, a pale ghost of his rubicund self, advanced
+haltingly from where he had sat transfixed during the last
+interminable minutes. “I ask the Court’s indulgence for the
+witness, Your Honour. He took the stand to-day against the
+express advice of his physicians, who informed him that he was
+on the verge of a nervous breakdown. As it is now almost four,
+I ask that the court adjourn until to-morrow, when Mr.
+Bellamy will again take the stand if the prosecutor wishes to
+continue the cross-examination.”</p>
+
+<p>Judge Carver leaned forward, frowning.</p>
+
+<p>“If it please Your Honour,” said the prosecutor, briskly
+magnanimous, “that won’t be necessary. I’ve finished with Mr.
+Bellamy, and unless my friend wishes to ask him anything on
+redirect——”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing on redirect,” said Mr. Lambert hollowly, his eyes
+on the exhausted despair of the face before him. “That will
+be all, Mr. Bellamy.”</p>
+
+<p>Slowly, stiffly, as though his very limbs had been wrenched
+by torture, Stephen Bellamy moved down the steps from the
+box, where there still rested Mimi Bellamy’s lace dress and
+silver slippers. When he stood a foot or so from his chair, he
+stopped for a moment, stared about him wildly, turning on the
+girl seated a little space away a look of dreadful inquiry. There
+she sat, slim and straight, with colour warm on her cheeks and
+bright in her lips, smiling that gay, friendly smile that was
+always waiting just behind the serene indifference of her eyes.
+And painfully, carefully, Stephen Bellamy twisted his stiffened
+lips to greet it, turned his face away and sat down. Even those
+across the courtroom could watch the ripple in his cheeks as his
+teeth clenched, unclenched, clenched.</p>
+
+<p>“If Your Honour has no objection,” the prosecutor was
+saying in that smooth new voice, “the witness that I spoke of
+yesterday is now in the court. He is still under his doctor’s orders,
+but he had an unusually good night, and is quite able to take
+the stand; he is anxious to do so, in fact, as he is supposed to
+get off for a rest as soon as possible. His testimony won’t take
+more than a few moments.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, let him take the stand.”</p>
+
+<p>“Call Dr. Barretti.”</p>
+
+<p>“Dr. Gabriel Barretti.”</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Barretti, looking much more like a distinguished
+diplomat than most distinguished diplomats ever look, mounted
+the stand with the caution of one newly risen from a hospital
+cot and settled himself comfortably in the uncomfortable chair.
+A small, close-clipped gray moustache, a fine sleek head of
+graying hair, a not displeasing touch of hospital pallor, brilliant
+eyes behind pince-nez on the most inobtrusive of black cords,
+and the tiny flame of the Legion of Honour ribbon lurking
+discreetly in his buttonhole—Dr. Barretti was far from suggesting
+the family physician. He turned toward the prosecutor with
+an air of gravely courteous interest.</p>
+
+<p>“Dr. Barretti, what is your profession?”</p>
+
+<p>“I believe that I might describe myself, without too much
+presumption, as a finger-print expert.”</p>
+
+<p>There was no trace of accent in Dr. Barretti’s finely
+modulated voice, and only the neatest touch of humourous
+deprecation.</p>
+
+<p>“The greatest authority in the world to-day, aren’t you,
+Doctor?”</p>
+
+<p>“It would ill become me to say so, sir, and I might find an
+unflattering number to disagree with me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Still, it’s an undisputed fact. How long has finger-printing
+been your occupation?”</p>
+
+<p>“It has been both my occupation and my hobby for about
+thirty-two years.”</p>
+
+<p>“You started to make a study of it then?”</p>
+
+<p>“A little before that. I studied at the time, however, with
+Sir Francis Galton in England and Bertillon in France. I also
+did considerable experimental work in Germany.”</p>
+
+<p>“Sir Francis Galton and Bertillon were the pioneers in the
+use of finger prints for identification, were they not?”</p>
+
+<p>“Hardly that. Finger prints for the purpose of identification
+were used in the Far East before history was invented to record
+it.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Farr frowned impatiently. “They were its foremost
+modern exponents as a means of criminal identification?”</p>
+
+<p>“Perfectly true. They were pioneers and very distinguished
+authorities.”</p>
+
+<p>“Shortly before his death in 1911, did Sir Francis Galton
+write a monograph on some recent developments in
+finger-print classification?”</p>
+
+<p>“He did.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did the dedication read ‘To Gabriel Barretti, My Pupil and
+My Master’?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. Sir Francis was more than generous.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you officially associated with any organization at
+present?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes. I am very closely associated with the work of the
+Central Bureau of Identification in New York, and with the
+work of the Army and Navy Bureau in Washington.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are the court of final appeal in both places, are you
+not?”</p>
+
+<p>“I believe so. I am also an official consultant of both
+Scotland Yard and the Paris Sûreté.”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly. Is there any opportunity of error in
+identification by means of finger prints?”</p>
+
+<p>“Granted a moderately clear impression and an able and
+honest expert to read it, there is not the remotest possibility of
+error.”</p>
+
+<p>“The prints would be identical?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no; no two prints are ever identical. The pressure of
+the finger and the temperature of the body cause infinite minute
+variations.”</p>
+
+<p>“But they do not interfere with identification?”</p>
+
+<p>“No more than the fact that you raise or lower your voice
+alters the fact that it is your voice.”</p>
+
+<p>“Precisely. Now, Dr. Barretti, I ask you to identify these
+two photographs and to tell us what they represent.”</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Barretti took the two huge cardboard squares with their
+sinister black splotches and inspected them gravely. The jury,
+abruptly and violently agog with interest, hunched rapidly
+forward to the edges of their chairs.</p>
+
+<p>From over Mr. Farr’s shoulder came an old, shaken voice—the
+voice of Dudley Lambert, empty of its erstwhile resonance
+as a pricked drum: “One moment—one moment! Do I
+understand that you are offering these in evidence?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know whether you understand it or not,” remarked
+Mr. Farr irritably. “It’s certainly what I intend to do as
+soon as I get them marked for identification. Now, Dr.
+Barretti——”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour, I object to this—I object!”</p>
+
+<p>“On what grounds?” inquired Judge Carver somewhat
+peremptorily, his own eyes fixed with undisguised interest on the
+large squares.</p>
+
+<p>“On the grounds that this entire performance is utterly
+irregular. I was not told that the witness held back by the
+prosecutor was a finger-print expert, nor that——”</p>
+
+<p>“You did not make any inquiries to that effect,” the judge
+reminded him unsympathetically.</p>
+
+<p>“I consider the entire performance nothing more or less than
+a trap, Your Honour. I know nothing about this man. I know
+nothing about finger prints. I am not a police-court lawyer, but
+a——”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you desire further to qualify Dr. Barretti as an expert
+by cross-examination?” inquired His Honour with more than
+his usual hint of acerbity.</p>
+
+<p>“I do not, Your Honour; as I stated, I am totally unable to
+cross-examine on the subject.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am sure that Dr. Barretti will hold himself at your
+disposal until you have had the time to consult or produce
+finger-print experts of your own,” said Judge Carver, bending
+inquiring eyes on that urbane gentleman and the restive
+prosecutor.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, by all means,” said Mr. Farr. “One day—two days—three
+days—we willingly waive cross-examination until my
+distinguished adversary is completely prepared. May I proceed,
+Your Honour?”</p>
+
+<p>“You may.”</p>
+
+<p>“They represent two greatly enlarged sets of finger prints,
+enlarged some fifty to sixty times—both the photographs and the
+initialled enlargements are in the lower left-hand corners—by
+my photographer and myself.”</p>
+
+<p>“Both made at the same time?”</p>
+
+<p>“The photographs were made at the same time—yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, no—were the finger prints themselves?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no, at quite different times. The set at the right is a
+photograph of official prints—prints made especially for our
+file; the one at the left, sometimes known as a casual print, was
+obtained from a surface at another date entirely.”</p>
+
+<p>“A clear impression?”</p>
+
+<p>“A remarkably clear impression. I believe that I may say
+without exaggeration—a beautiful impression.”</p>
+
+<p>“Each shows five fingers?”</p>
+
+<p>“The official one shows five fingers, the casual print shows
+four fingers distinctly—the fifth, the little finger, is considerably
+blurred, as apparently no pressure was exerted by it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Only one finger print is necessary in order to establish
+identity?”</p>
+
+<p>“A section of a finger print, if it is sufficiently large, will
+establish identity.”</p>
+
+<p>“These prints are from the same hand?”</p>
+
+<p>“From the same hand.”</p>
+
+<p>“It should be obvious even to the layman in comparing them
+that the same hand made them?”</p>
+
+<p>“I should think that it would be inescapable.”</p>
+
+<p>“No two people in the world have ever been discovered to
+have the same arrangement of whorls or loops or arches that
+constitute a finger print?”</p>
+
+<p>“No two in the world.”</p>
+
+<p>“How many finger prints have been taken?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, millions of them—the number increases so rapidly that
+it would be folly to guess at it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m going to ask you to give these prints to the jury, Dr.
+Barretti, so that they may be able to compare them at their
+leisure. Will you pass them on, Mr. Foreman, after you have
+inspected them? . . . Thanks.”</p>
+
+<p>The foreman of the jury fell upon them with a barely
+restrained pounce, the very glasses on his nose quivering with
+excitement. Finger prints! Things that you read about all your
+life, that you wondered and speculated and marvelled over—and
+here they were, right in your lucky hands. The rest of the
+jury crowded forward enviously.</p>
+
+<p>“Dr. Barretti, on what surface were these so-called casual
+prints found?”</p>
+
+<p>Through the courtroom there ran a stir—a murmur—that
+strange soaring hum with which humanity eases itself of the
+intolerable burden of suspense. Even the rapt jury lifted its head
+to catch it.</p>
+
+<p>“From the surface of a brass lamp—the lamp found in the
+gardener’s cottage on the Thorne estate known as Orchards.”</p>
+
+<p>“Will you tell us why it was possible to obtain so sharply
+defined a print from this lamp?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly. The hand that clasped the lamp was apparently
+quite moist, either from natural conditions of temperature or
+from some emotion. It had clasped the base, which was about
+six inches in diameter before it swelled into the portion that
+served as reservoir, quite firmly. The surface of the lamp had
+been lacquered in order to obviate polishing, making an
+excellent retaining surface. Furthermore, the impression was
+developed within twenty-four hours of the time of the murder,
+and the surface was at no time tampered with. The kerosene
+that had flowed from it freely flowed away from the base, and,
+in any case, the prints were on the upper portion of the base.
+All these circumstances united in making it possible to obtain
+an unusually fine print.”</p>
+
+<p>“One that leaves not the remotest possibility of error in
+comparison and identification?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not the remotest.”</p>
+
+<p>“Whose hand made those two sets of impressions, Dr.
+Barretti?”</p>
+
+<p>“The hand in both cases,” said Dr. Barretti, gravely and
+pleasantly, “was that of Mrs. Patrick Ives.”</p>
+
+<p>After a long time Mr. Farr said softly, “That is all, Dr.
+Barretti. Cross-examine.”</p>
+
+<p>And as though it had travelled a great distance and were very
+tired, the old strange voice that Mr. Lambert had found in the
+courtroom that afternoon said wearily, “No questions now.
+Later, perhaps—later—not now.”</p>
+
+<p>The fifth day of the Bellamy trial was over.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch06">
+
+<h2>Chapter VI</h2>
+
+<p>The reporter looked from the clock to the red-headed
+girl and back again, with an expression in which
+consternation and irritation were neatly blended. The
+red-headed girl’s hat was well over one eye, her nose was
+undeniably pink, she had a fluff of hair over her ear, a fiery spot
+burning in either cheek and two or more in her eyes. The clock
+said ten-thirty-five.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, you’re a fine one,” said the reporter in tones that
+belied the statement. He removed an overcoat, a woolly scarf, a
+portable typewriter, seven tabloid newspapers, and a gray felt
+hat from the seat next to him and waited virtuously for
+appropriate expressions of gratitude. None were forthcoming. The
+red-headed girl scrambled unceremoniously over his feet, sank
+into the seat, and abandoned herself to a series of minute but
+audible pants varied by an occasional subdued sniff.</p>
+
+<p>“What in the world—” began the reporter.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t speak to me!” said the red-headed girl in a small
+fierce voice, and added even more fiercely: “What’s happened?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s what I want to know!” remarked the reporter with
+some emphasis. “What in the world was that perfectly ungodly
+racket going on outside in the hall?”</p>
+
+<p>“Me,” said the red-headed girl. “Who’s been on the stand?”</p>
+
+<p>“You? For the Lord’s sake, what were you doing?”</p>
+
+<p>“Screaming,” said the red-headed girl. “Who’s been on the
+stand?”</p>
+
+<p>“Just a guy from a prison out West to prove that Orsini
+had served a jail sentence for robbery. What were you
+screaming about?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because they wouldn’t let me in. . . . Who’s on now?”</p>
+
+<p>“That red-headed fellow, Leo Fox, from the gas station.
+He’s through with his direct, and Farr has him now. . . . Why
+wouldn’t they let you in?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because—— No, I can’t tell you all that now. Later—at
+lunch. Listen, won’t you——”</p>
+
+<hr>
+
+<p>“It was Saturday night, wasn’t it, Mr. Fox?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure it was Saturday night.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fox, who was lavishly decorated with freckles, whose
+coat was about three inches too tight for him, and whose tie
+was about three shades too green, shifted his chewing gum
+dexterously to the other cheek and kept a wary eye on Mr. Farr.</p>
+
+<p>“There were a good many cars getting gas at your station
+on fine Saturday nights in June, weren’t there?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure there were.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yet this car and its occupants are indelibly stamped on your
+memory?”</p>
+
+<p>“If you mean do I remember the both of them, sure I do.
+They wasn’t just getting gas; the dame—the lady—she wanted
+a drink of water, and it was me who got it for her. That was
+what made me remember them, see?”</p>
+
+<p>“And all you know is that it was some time after nine,
+because you didn’t come on duty until nine?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s right. I don’t never come on until then; and
+sometimes I’m a couple of minutes late, at that.”</p>
+
+<p>“But it might have been two minutes past nine instead of
+twenty-five minutes past, as Mrs. Ives claims?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir, it couldn’t have been nothing of the kind. People
+don’t get eight gallons of gas, and pay for it, and get change,
+and ask for glasses of water and get them, and drink them and
+get away all in two minutes. It must have been more than ten
+minutes past, no matter if they were the first ones to come
+along after I checked in.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Farr contemplated him with marked disfavour. “I didn’t
+ask you for a speech, Mr. Fox. The only fact you are able to
+state to us positively as to the time is that you came on duty at
+nine o’clock, and that Mrs. Ives and Mr. Bellamy appeared
+after you had arrived.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s right.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then that will be all. You may stand down.”</p>
+
+<p>“Call Mr. Patrick Ives,” said Mr. Lambert.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Patrick Ives!”</p>
+
+<p>From the corner by the window where he had sat, hour after
+hour and day after day, with his mother’s small gloved hand
+resting lightly and reassuringly on his knee, Patrick Ives rose
+and moved slowly forward toward the witness box.</p>
+
+<p>How tall he was, thought the red-headed girl—how tall and
+young, for all the haggard misery and bitterness of that white
+and reckless face. He stood staring about him for a moment, his
+black head towering inches above those about him; then, with
+one swift stride, he was in his place.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Ives, will you be good enough to tell us as concisely
+as possible just what happened on the night of June 19, 1926,
+from the time that you arrived at your home to the time that
+you retired for the night?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh,” said Patrick Ives indifferently, “I doubt whether I
+could do anything along that line at all. I have a notoriously
+bad memory, and I’d simply be faking a lot of stuff that
+wouldn’t do either of us any good. Besides, most of that ground
+has been gone over by other witnesses, hasn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>The casual insolence of the conversational tone had had the
+effect of literally hypnotizing Mr. Lambert, Mr. Farr, and the
+redoubtable Carver himself into a state of stupefied inaction.
+As the voice ceased, however, all three emerged from coma into
+violent energy. It was difficult to tell which of the three was
+the more profoundly moved, though Mr. Lambert’s
+protestations were the most piercing. Fortified by his gavel, however,
+Judge Carver managed to batter the rest into silence.</p>
+
+<p>“Let that answer be stricken from the record! It is totally
+improper, Mr. Ives. This is not a debating society. You will kindly
+refrain from expressing your opinions on any subject whatsoever,
+and will confine yourself to the briefest replies possible.”</p>
+
+<p>“If Mr. Lambert will put a definite question to me I’ll see
+whether I can give him a definite answer,” replied Mr. Ives,
+looking entirely unchastened and remotely diverted.</p>
+
+<p>“Very well,” said Lambert, choking with ill-concealed
+wrath. “Will you be so kind as to tell us whether anything
+out of the ordinary occurred during that evening, Mr. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“Before dinner?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“After dinner?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ives flung him the monosyllables like so many very bare
+bones tossed at a large, hungry, snapping dog.</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Page testified that she met you at the nursery door
+with a ship model in your hand at about eight o’clock. Is
+that correct?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“When did you see her again?”</p>
+
+<p>“About a quarter of an hour later.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was her testimony as to what followed correct?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, it was correct enough as far as it went.”</p>
+
+<p>“It went further than she told us?”</p>
+
+<p>“Considerably,” said Mr. Ives, a grimly reminiscent smile
+flitting across his haggard young face.</p>
+
+<p>“In what direction?”</p>
+
+<p>“In the direction of violent hysterics and general lunacy,”
+said Mr. Ives unfeelingly.</p>
+
+<p>“What was the cause of these—er—manifestations?”</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Page,” said Mr. Ives with great clarity and precision,
+“is a high-strung, unbalanced, hysterical little idiot Mrs. Ives
+had——”</p>
+
+<p>“Does Your Honour consider that a responsive reply?”
+inquired Mr. Farr with mild interest.</p>
+
+<p>“The Court has already warned the witness to keep strictly
+to the question. It repeats that warning. As for the reply, it
+may be stricken from the record.”</p>
+
+<p>“I consider it an absolutely responsive reply,” cried Mr.
+Lambert with some heat. “Mr. Ives was explaining why Miss
+Page——”</p>
+
+<p>“You may take your exception and put the question again,
+Mr. Lambert. The Court has ruled on the reply.”</p>
+
+<p>“What caused the hysteria you speak of?” inquired Mr.
+Lambert through gritted teeth.</p>
+
+<p>“The fact that Mrs. Ives had told her that her services were
+no longer required, and that she had better make her
+preparations to leave on Monday. Miss Page wished me to intervene
+in her behalf, as I had already done on two occasions.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you acquiesce?”</p>
+
+<p>“On the contrary,” said Pat Ives—and at the tone of chilled
+steel in his voice the red-headed girl felt a flash of something
+like pity for her pet detestation, the flower-faced Miss
+Page—“I told her that in my opinion Sunday was a better day than
+Monday, and that I’d send Roberts to help with the packing.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why was Miss Page so anxious to stay, Mr. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“How should I know?” inquired Mr. Ives. “She probably
+realized that it was a very excellent job that she was losing.”</p>
+
+<p>“That is the only explanation that occurs to you?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is the only explanation that it occurs to me to give you,”
+said Mr. Ives gently, a small, dangerous smile playing about the
+corner of his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert eyed him indecisively for a moment, and
+prudently decided on another tack. “Did that conclude your
+conversation?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no,” replied Mr. Ives, the smile deepening. “That
+started it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Will you give us the rest of it, please?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m afraid I can’t. As I told you, I have a bad memory.
+If it doesn’t betray me, however, I believe that it was largely an
+elaboration of the two original themes.”</p>
+
+<p>“What themes?”</p>
+
+<p>“The themes of her departure and my intervention.”</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Page said nothing about a note?”</p>
+
+<p>“A note?” There was a look of genuine surprise in the lifted
+brows.</p>
+
+<p>“She did not mention having intercepted a note from Mrs.
+Stephen Bellamy—having abstracted it from a book in the
+library?”</p>
+
+<p>“I see,” said Mr. Ives, the brows relaxing, the smile
+returning, a little deeper and more dangerous. “No, I don’t believe
+that she mentioned that. It would probably have made an
+impression on me if she had.”</p>
+
+<p>“Had you any reason to believe that Miss Page was jealous
+of Mrs. Bellamy, Mr. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“Jealous of Mrs. Bellamy? Why should Miss Page have been
+jealous of Mrs. Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>“I thought that possibly you might be able to tell us.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were in error,” said Mr. Ives, leaning a little forward
+in his chair. “I am totally unable to tell you.”</p>
+
+<p>He did not lift his voice, but Mr. Lambert moved back a
+step somewhat precipitately.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes—exactly. Now, Mr. Ives, Melanie Cordier has testified
+that you told her that you had not found the note she claims
+to have placed there. Was that correct?”</p>
+
+<p>“That is what I told her, certainly.”</p>
+
+<p>“And it was an accurate statement on your part?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Farr rose leisurely to his feet. “Just one moment, please.
+I’m becoming a little confused from time to time as to whether
+this is direct or cross-examination. It looks as though Mr.
+Lambert were going to leave me very little to do. Possibly I’m in
+error, but it certainly sounds to me as though he were
+impeaching the veracity of his own witness.”</p>
+
+<p>“The Court is inclined to agree with you. Do you object to
+the question?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t particularly object to the question, but it strikes
+me as totally out of place.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well. You need not reply to that question, Mr. Ives.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thanks—with Your Honour’s permission, I prefer to. I’m
+sure that Mr. Lambert will be glad to know that my reply to
+Melanie Cordier was entirely accurate.”</p>
+
+<p>“How many of these notes had you received previously?”
+inquired Mr. Lambert, and the expression that inflamed his
+countenance was not one of gratitude.</p>
+
+<p>“Six or eight, possibly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Over what period?”</p>
+
+<p>“Over a period of about two months.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you aware that Miss Cordier testified that she had
+placed possibly twenty there over a much more extended
+period?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, if she testified that,” said Patrick Ives indifferently,
+“she lied.”</p>
+
+<p>“What was the tenor of these notes?”</p>
+
+<p>“They were largely suggesting appointments at the cottage.”</p>
+
+<p>“How often were these appointments carried through?”</p>
+
+<p>“Twice.”</p>
+
+<p>“Only twice?”</p>
+
+<p>At the flat incredulity of Lambert’s face something flared
+in Patrick Ives’s heavy blue eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Twice, I said—twice.”</p>
+
+<p>“Will you give us the dates?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m afraid I can’t—once in the latter part of May, again
+about a week before the murder. That’s about the best that I
+can do.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Ives, there has been some talk here of this knife, State
+Exhibit 6. Miss Page has identified it as belonging to you. Is
+that correct?”</p>
+
+<p>“Quite.”</p>
+
+<p>“Will you tell us when you last saw it?”</p>
+
+<p>“The last time that I remember seeing it before it was
+produced here in court was on the afternoon of my wife’s
+arrest—Monday the twenty-first.”</p>
+
+<p>“Have you any idea where it was on the night of June
+nineteenth at half-past nine?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have a very definite and distinct idea,” said Patrick Ives,
+and for the first time since he had mounted the stand the
+haggard restlessness of his face relaxed to something curiously
+approaching gaiety. “It was in my right-hand trousers
+pocket.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert’s exultant countenance was turned squarely to
+the jury. “How did it come to be there?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was there because that’s where I stuck it when I took
+the boat upstairs to Pete at eight o’clock that evening, and it
+stayed there until I put it back on the desk Sunday morning
+after breakfast.”</p>
+
+<p>“No chance of an error on that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a chance.”</p>
+
+<p>“No possibility of its being in the possession of Mrs. Ives
+at any time that evening?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a possibility.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Ives, where were you that evening at nine-thirty
+o’clock?”</p>
+
+<p>The careless gaiety departed abruptly from Patrick Ives’s
+face. For a long moment he sat staring at Lambert, coolly and
+speculatively. His eyes, still speculating, shifted briefly to the
+hundreds of eager countenances straining toward his, and at the
+sight of their frantic attention his mouth twisted somewhat
+mirthlessly. “Unkind, isn’t it,” mocked his eyes, “to keep you
+waiting!”</p>
+
+<p>“I was at home,” said Patrick Ives.</p>
+
+<p>“What were you doing?”</p>
+
+<p>“Smoking a pipe and looking through a magazine, I think,
+though I shouldn’t like to swear to the exact time. I wasn’t
+using a stop watch.”</p>
+
+<p>“In what room?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I’m afraid that I can’t help you there much either.
+I moved about from one room to another, you see. I did a little
+more work on the boat, smoked, read—I didn’t follow any
+set programme. I wasn’t aware at the time that it would have
+been judicious to do so.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are aware now, however, that Melanie Cordier said
+that you were not in any of the lower rooms when she made
+her rounds at ten?”</p>
+
+<p>“Then I must have been in one of the upper rooms,” said
+Patrick Ives gently.</p>
+
+<p>“You are also aware that Mrs. Daniel Ives has told us that
+you didn’t bring her her fruit that night because you were not
+in the house?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” said Pat Ives gently still, “this is probably the first
+time in her life that she was ever mistaken. I was in the house.”</p>
+
+<p>“What caused you to change your mind as to attending the
+poker party, Mr. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“Circumstances arose that made it impossible.” The
+inscrutability of Mr. Ives’s countenance suggested that he would be a
+formidable addition to any poker party.</p>
+
+<p>“What circumstances?”</p>
+
+<p>“Circumstances,” said Mr. Ives, “that I shouldn’t dream of
+discussing either here or elsewhere. I am able to assure you,
+however, that they were not even remotely connected with the
+murder.”</p>
+
+<p>“What circumstances?” repeated Mr. Lambert, with
+passionate insistence.</p>
+
+<p>“Now, what,” asked Mr. Farr with languid pathos, “I again
+inquire, is my distinguished adversary leaving for a mere
+prosecutor to do?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Lambert,” said Judge Carver austerely, “it strikes
+the Court that you are most certainly pressing the witness
+unduly in view of the fact that this is direct examination, and you
+are therefore bound to abide by his answer. The Court——”</p>
+
+<p>“He has refused to give me an answer,” replied Mr.
+Lambert, with some degree of justice and a larger degree of heat.
+“I may state to Your Honour that I regard the witness’s
+manner as distinctly hostile and——”</p>
+
+<p>“The Court fails to see wherein he has proved hostile,”
+remarked Judge Carver critically, “and it therefore requests you
+to bear in mind henceforth that you are dealing with your own
+witness. You may proceed with the examination.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert turned his richly suffused countenance back
+to his own witness, avoiding Sue Ives’s eye, which for the last
+half hour had not once wavered from the look of passionate
+indignation that she had directed toward him at the outset of
+his manœuvres.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Ives,” said Mr. Lambert, “you heard Miss Roberts
+testify that she believed that it was your voice that she heard
+as she tried the door to the day nursery, did you not?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I heard her testify to that effect.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was she mistaken?”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” said Patrick Ives, spacing his words with cool
+deliberation, “she was not mistaken.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was she mistaken in believing that the door was locked?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, she was not mistaken.”</p>
+
+<p>“Which of you locked the door, Mr. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“If you will tell me what that has to do with the murder
+of Mimi Bellamy,” said Mr. Ives with even greater
+deliberation, “I will tell you who locked the door.”</p>
+
+<p>“You refuse to answer my question?”</p>
+
+<p>“Most assuredly I refuse to answer your question.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour——” choked the frenzied Lambert.</p>
+
+<p>“The Court also fails to see what the question has to do
+with the case,” said Judge Carver, in a tone by no means
+propitiatory. “It is excluded. Proceed.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is being made practically impossible for me to proceed
+in any direction,” remarked Lambert, in a voice unsteady with
+indignation. “Impossible! Mr. Ives, all that any occupant of
+that room had to do in order to get out of the house was to
+unlock that door and go, wasn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Absolutely all,” acquiesced the hostile witness cordially.</p>
+
+<p>“No one would have been likely to see either one or the
+other or both depart, would they?”</p>
+
+<p>“I think it highly unlikely.”</p>
+
+<p>“No one saw either you or Miss Page in the house between
+nine and ten, did they?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a soul—not a single solitary soul,” said Mr. Ives, and
+his voice was almost blithe.</p>
+
+<p>“How long would it take to get from your house to the
+cottage at Orchards?”</p>
+
+<p>“On foot?”</p>
+
+<p>“On foot, yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, ten-fifteen minutes, perhaps. There’s a short cut across
+the fields behind the house that comes out close to there.”</p>
+
+<p>“The one that Miss Page used to take the children to the
+playhouse?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s the one, yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“She knew of this path?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, obviously.” The grim smile flashed for a moment
+to open mockery.</p>
+
+<p>“And you knew of it?”</p>
+
+<p>“And I knew of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“How?”</p>
+
+<p>“My mother had told me that Miss Page was taking the
+children there, and I’d requested her not to do so as I knew
+Sue’s feeling about the place.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Ives, were your relations with your wife happy?”</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Patrick Ives sat perfectly still, fighting back
+the surge of crimson that flooded his pale mockery. When he
+spoke, his voice, for all its clearness, sounded as though it had
+travelled back from a great distance.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” he said, “they were happy.”</p>
+
+<p>“In so far as you know, she was unaware that you had ceased
+to care for her?”</p>
+
+<p>“She could hardly have been aware of it,” said Patrick Ives.
+“From the moment that I first saw her I have loved her
+passionately—and devotedly—and entirely.”</p>
+
+<p>After a long, astounded silence, Lambert’s voice asked heavily,
+“You expect us to believe, in the face of the evidence that has
+been presented to us here, that you have been faithful to Mrs.
+Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a matter of supreme indifference to me what you
+believe,” said Patrick Ives. “I don’t regard fidelity to Sue as
+particularly creditable. The fool of the world would have
+enough sense for that.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are saying that you never ceased to love her?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am saying that since I met her I’ve never given another
+woman two thoughts except to wish to God that she was
+somewhere else.”</p>
+
+<p>“That was why you went to meet Madeleine Bellamy at the
+gardener’s cottage?”</p>
+
+<p>“That,” said Mr. Ives imperturbably, “is precisely why
+I went to meet Madeleine Bellamy at the gardener’s
+cottage.”</p>
+
+<p>Before the cool indifference of his eye the ugly sneer on
+Lambert’s countenance wavered for a moment, deepened. “You
+deny that you wrote these letters?”</p>
+
+<p>Pat Ives bent on the small packet flourished beneath his eye
+a careless glance. “Not for a moment.”</p>
+
+<p>“Were they or were they not written after rendezvous had
+taken place between you and Mrs. Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>“Two of them were written after what you are pleased to
+describe as rendezvous had taken place—one before.”</p>
+
+<p>“And where, Mr. Ives, was your wife at the time of these
+meetings—on June eighth, June ninth and May
+twenty-second?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know.”</p>
+
+<p>“She was in New York, wasn’t she?”</p>
+
+<p>“I haven’t the faintest idea. I’d never met her, you see.”</p>
+
+<p>Lambert goggled at him above his sagging jaw. “You’d never
+met her?”</p>
+
+<p>The courtroom throng blinked, shivered, stared wildly into
+one another’s eyes. No, no, that wasn’t what he had said—that
+couldn’t be what he had said. Or perhaps he was going mad
+before their eyes, sitting there with those reckless eyes dark in
+his white face. . . .</p>
+
+<p>“No; those letters were written in 1916. I didn’t meet Sue
+until the spring of 1919.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ha!” exhaled Lambert in a great breath of contemptuous
+relief. “Written in 1916, eh? And may I ask why Mrs.
+Bellamy was carrying them around in her bag in 1926?”</p>
+
+<p>“You may ask,” Pat Ives assured him, “and what’s more,
+I’ll tell you. She was selling them to me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Selling them to you? What for?”</p>
+
+<p>“For a hundred thousand dollars,” said Patrick Ives.</p>
+
+<p>Over the stupefied silence of the courtroom soared Lambert’s
+incredulous voice: “You expect us to believe that?”</p>
+
+<p>“I wish to the Lord you’d stop asking me that,” said his
+witness with undisguised irritation. “It’s not my business to
+decide what you’ll believe or what you won’t believe. What I’m
+telling you is the truth.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is your contention that these letters of yours, which you
+now claim were written in 1916, were being used for purposes
+of blackmail by Mrs. Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>“You choose your own words,” said Pat Ives. “Personally,
+I’d chose prettier ones. Mimi undoubtedly considered that I
+would be getting value received in the letters. She was right.
+She also may have considered that I owed her something. She
+was right again.”</p>
+
+<p>“You owed her something?”</p>
+
+<p>“I owed her a great deal for not having married me,” said
+Pat Ives. “As she didn’t, I owe her more happiness than most
+men even dream of.”</p>
+
+<p>Lambert made a sound that strongly suggested a snort. “Very
+pretty—very pretty indeed. What it comes down to, however,
+is that you accuse this dead girl, who is not here to defend
+herself, of deliberately stooping to blackmailing the man she loved
+for a colossal sum of money—that’s it, isn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, hardly. She didn’t love me, of course—she never loved
+anyone in her life but Steve. She told me that she wanted the
+money because she thought that he was sick; that he was
+working himself to death and getting nothing out of it. She was
+going to persuade him that an aunt in Cheyenne had left her the
+money, and that she wasn’t happy here, and that they ought to
+start out again in a place that she’d heard of in California. She
+had it all worked out very nicely.”</p>
+
+<p>“One moment, Mr. Ives.” Judge Carver lifted an arresting
+hand. “As it is after twelve, the Court will at this time take its
+customary recess for luncheon. We will reconvene at
+one-fifteen.”</p>
+
+<hr>
+
+<p>The reporter viewed the recessional through the doors
+behind the witness box with an expression of unfeigned diversion.
+“Watch Uncle Dudley,” he adjured the red-headed girl. “He’s
+not going to have any luncheon; he’s going to stay right here
+where nobody can get at him to give him any unwelcome
+instructions before he gets through with Mr. Patrick Ives. There,
+what did I tell you?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert, who had followed somewhat perfunctorily
+in the wake of his clients, now wheeled about briskly and
+returned to his well-laden desk, where he proceeded to plunge into
+a large stack of papers before him with virtuous abandon. He
+apparently found them of the most absorbing interest, although
+from time to time he permitted himself a slightly apprehensive
+glance at the closed door.</p>
+
+<p>Finally it opened, and one of the amiable and harassed-looking
+young men who shared the desk with him entered
+purposefully. An animated though inaudible colloquy ensued, punctuated
+by much emphatic head wagging by Lambert. Finally the young
+man departed more precipitately than he had come, Mr.
+Lambert returned to his studies, and the reporter and the red-headed
+girl emerged from the fascinated hush in which they had been
+contemplating this silent drama.</p>
+
+<p>“Ten to one she doesn’t get in a syllable to him before he
+gets through with Ives,” said the reporter.</p>
+
+<p>“Who doesn’t?” The red-headed girl’s tone was a trifle
+abstracted. She was wondering if her nose was still pink, and if
+the young man beside her was one of the young men who
+consider face powder more immoral than tooth powder.</p>
+
+<p>“Sue Ives, goose! What were you screaming about?”</p>
+
+<p>“I was screaming,” said the red-headed girl, memory
+lighting a reminiscent glitter in her eye, “because they wouldn’t let
+me in, and I thought that if I made enough noise they might.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why wouldn’t they let you in?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because a fat fiend made a snatch at my ticket and tore it
+in two and I had only half a one to show them.” She
+relinquished the powder box regretfully and exhibited a blue scrap
+about two inches square. “Next time,” she remarked with grim
+pride, “they’ll know whom this ticket belongs to. Two
+policemen snatched at me, and I told them if they laid one finger on
+me, I’d have them up for assault and battery. So they didn’t lay
+a finger on me.”</p>
+
+<p>“It will probably be a life work—and an uphill job, at that—to
+eliminate a marked lack of emotional control that is your
+distinguishing characteristic,” said the reporter meditatively.
+“However, did you enjoy the picnic?”</p>
+
+<p>“I adored it!” said the emotionally uncontrolled young
+woman beside him.</p>
+
+<p>“It was a fair picnic,” conceded the reporter. “And for a
+person whose height should be measured in inches rather than
+feet, you’re a very fair hiker. Too bad there’s only one Sunday
+to a trial. You have rather a knack with bacon sandwiches too.
+How are you with scrambled eggs?”</p>
+
+<p>“Marvellous!” said the red-headed girl frankly.</p>
+
+<p>“Though, if things keep up the way they’ve been going this
+morning, we’re liable to have another trial started before this
+one is over. The people versus Patrick Ives! I can see it
+coming.”</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t think he did it, do you?” inquired the red-headed
+girl anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, when it comes to murder trials, I don’t think. But I’ll
+tell you this: If Steve Bellamy didn’t do it, he thinks that Pat
+Ives did. And if Pat didn’t he thinks that Sue did. And I don’t
+envy any of them their thoughts these days. . . . Ah, here
+we are again!”</p>
+
+<hr>
+
+<p>“Mr. Ives, do I understand that you were perfectly willing
+to pay a hundred thousand dollars for two or three letters that
+you protest are perfectly innocent?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t protest anything of the kind. I think they’re damned
+incriminating letters—just exactly the kind of stuff that a
+sickening, infatuated, fatuous young fool would write. And you’re
+flattering me when you say that I was perfectly willing. It
+took me about two months to get even moderately resigned to
+the situation, and at that, I didn’t regard it with marked
+favour.”</p>
+
+<p>“Still, you were willing to pay a hundred thousand dollars
+to keep the letters out of your wife’s hands?”</p>
+
+<p>“Five hundred thousand dollars, if I could put my hands on
+it, to keep pain and sorrow and ugliness out of her way.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were not convinced, then, that she would accept your
+story as to when the letters were written?”</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t want her to know that they had ever been written.
+I’d never told her of the degree of—intimacy that had existed
+between Mimi and myself.”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly. Now Miss Cordier had told us that the notes from
+Mrs. Bellamy had been increasing in frequency at the time of
+the murder. Is that true?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; I’d have about three in ten days.”</p>
+
+<p>“Her demands were becoming more insistent?”</p>
+
+<p>“Considerably.” Again that small grim smile, curiously
+unsuggestive of mirth.</p>
+
+<p>“So that it had become essential for you to do something at
+once if you were to prevent these letters from reaching your
+wife?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was necessary for me to produce the money at once,
+if that is what you mean.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t trouble to analyze my meanings, if you please. Just
+answer my question.”</p>
+
+<p>Patrick Ives’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Your question was
+ambiguous,” he commented without emphasis.</p>
+
+<p>“I asked you if it was not imperative for you to act promptly
+in order to prevent these letters from reaching your wife?”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s still ambiguous. As I said before, however, it was
+necessary to pay for the letters pretty promptly, and I brought out the
+money on the night of the nineteenth with that end in view.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh!” said Lambert, in a heavily disconcerted voice. “You
+brought it out, did you? In what form?”</p>
+
+<p>“I got it out of my safety box at noon—eighty-five thousand
+in Liberty Bonds and fifteen in municipal bonds.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did anyone know that you were doing this?”</p>
+
+<p>“Naturally not.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where did you place this sum on your return, Mr. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I put it first in the back of the desk drawer in my
+study just before dinner. I intended to put it upstairs in a wall
+safe behind a panel in my dressing room, but while I was
+looking through it in the study to make sure that it was all there,
+Sue called to me from the hall that our guests were going, and I
+went out on the porch to say good-bye to them. We didn’t go
+upstairs before dinner, so that I didn’t get a chance to transfer
+them until later in the evening.”</p>
+
+<p>“No one knew they were in the house?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not so far as I know?”</p>
+
+<p>“What did you do with them subsequently?”</p>
+
+<p>“I returned them to my safety-deposit box on Monday at
+noon.”</p>
+
+<p>“Anyone know of that transaction?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a soul.”</p>
+
+<p>“So you are the only person able to attest that you ever had
+any intention of paying that money to Mrs. Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, whom do you want better?” inquired Pat Ives
+agreeably.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert bestowed on him an enigmatic smile that was
+far from agreeable. “Did this sum represent a substantial
+portion of your capital?”</p>
+
+<p>“It certainly would be no exaggeration to say that it made
+a large dent in it.”</p>
+
+<p>“You say that it had taken you a long time to decide to
+pay it?”</p>
+
+<p>“A moderately long time—two months.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why didn’t you take it to Mrs. Bellamy that evening, Mr.
+Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“I had no appointment with her. She was to let me know if
+she was able to get away, and at what time.”</p>
+
+<p>“It didn’t occur to you to look in the book to see whether
+there was a note?”</p>
+
+<p>“It most assuredly did occur to me. I went in for that specific
+purpose at the time that Sue called me from the hall.”</p>
+
+<p>“So that you didn’t look?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, I did look when I came back five minutes later.
+There was no note.”</p>
+
+<p>“Aha!” said Mr. Lambert, and the red-headed girl,
+watching with horrified eyes the reckless progress of young Mr.
+Ives across the spread nets, made a mechanical note that never
+except in a book had she heard a human being say “Aha” before.
+“So you looked in the book, did you? And there was no note,
+was there?”</p>
+
+<p>“Right both times,” said Mr. Ives.</p>
+
+<p>“Now that’s very interesting,” beamed Mr. Lambert—“very
+interesting, indeed. But if there had been a note in that book,
+you’d have found it, wouldn’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, not being a blithering idiot, that’s a fairly safe
+proposition.”</p>
+
+<p>“And if you had found it, you would have gone to the
+rendezvous, wouldn’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’d certainly have made every effort to.”</p>
+
+<p>“Cancelling your poker engagement?”</p>
+
+<p>“Presumably.”</p>
+
+<p>“Taking the short cut across the fields?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know how I’d have gone. It’s slightly academic,
+isn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“And in that gardener’s cottage you would have found
+waiting for you the unfortunate girl with those letters that it was
+so vitally necessary for you to obtain?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why don’t you ask him whether he would still have had
+the knife in his pocket?” inquired Mr. Farr gently. “And why
+don’t you ask him what he would have done with it? You
+don’t want to leave anything like that out.”</p>
+
+<p>Lambert, thus rudely checked in his exultant career, turned
+bulging eyes and a howl of outraged protest in the direction of
+Judge Carver’s unresponsive countenance.</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour, in a somewhat protracted career at the bar,
+I have yet to encounter as flagrant a breach——”</p>
+
+<p>Judge Carver cut sharply across these strident objurgations:
+“And in a somewhat protracted career at the bar, Mr. Lambert,
+this Court has yet to encounter as extraordinary a conduct of
+an examination as you have permitted yourself, and as the
+Court, in the absence of protests from either the witness or
+the prosecution, has permitted you. Mr. Farr’s objection was
+not put in a proper form, but is otherwise quite legitimate. The
+questions that you are putting to the witness involve a purely
+supposititious case, and as such, the witness is entirely at liberty
+to refuse to answer them. You may proceed.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll answer it,” said Pat Ives. “If I’d found the note, I’d
+have gone to the cottage, given Mimi the money, got the letters,
+and none of us would have spent these last weeks thinking
+what a nice pleasant place hell would be for a change. I wish to
+God I’d found it. Is that what you wanted to know?”</p>
+
+<p>It was very far indeed from what Mr. Lambert wanted to
+know. However, he turned a wary eye on the jury, who were
+contemplating soberly and not too sympathetically the bitter,
+insolent face of the young gentleman in the witness box.
+Flippancy was obviously an evil stench in their nostrils. Mr.
+Lambert rattled the letters still clenched in his hand reminiscently.</p>
+
+<p>“There are two or three things in these letters that I’d like
+to have you reconcile with the statement that they were written
+in 1916. First, what does it mean, Mr. Ives, when you say:
+‘I keep telling myself that we’re mad—that there’s black trouble
+ahead of us—that I haven’t any right in the world to let you
+do this’—do what, Mr. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“Carry on the highly indiscreet affair that we were
+indulging in,” said Pat Ives, his white face a shade whiter. “We’d
+both completely lost our heads. She wasn’t willing to marry
+me because she was afraid that I hadn’t it in me to make good.
+There was a lot of ugly gossip going on, and it had upset her.”</p>
+
+<p>“Quite so,” smiled Mr. Lambert dreadfully; “oh, quite so.
+Now in the one that begins: ‘Mimi darling, darling, darling,
+it’s after four o’clock and——’ ”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you going through those letters again?” inquired
+Patrick Ives, his hands clenched on the edge of the box.</p>
+
+<p>“Just one or two little things that I’d like cleared up, and
+I’m sure that these gentlemen would too. It goes on: ‘Dawn—I
+always thought that was the worst word in the English
+language and here I am on my knees waiting for it, and
+ranting like——’ ”</p>
+
+<p>“You needn’t go on,” said Patrick Ives, “if what you’re
+really after is when they were written. The sun that rose at
+4:30 that morning in June in 1916 would have kept me waiting
+exactly one hour and six minutes longer in 1926. You and
+Mimi and I had forgotten just one thing, Mr. Lambert—we’d
+forgotten that in 1916 there was no such thing as daylight
+saving.”</p>
+
+<p>And through the staggered silence that invaded some three
+hundred-odd people who had forgotten precisely the same
+thing, there rose a little laugh—a gay, excited, triumphant
+little laugh, as though somewhere a small girl had suddenly
+received a beautiful and unexpected present. It came from just
+behind Mr. Lambert’s sagging shoulders—it came from—— The
+startled eyes of those in the courtroom jerked in that
+direction, staring unbelievingly at the quiet figure, so quiet, so
+cool, so gravely aloof. But the red-headed girl felt idiotic tears
+sting swiftly beneath her lids. Under the lowered barrier of
+Sue Ives’s lashes there still danced the echo of that joyous
+truant, shameless and unafraid. It was she who had laughed,
+after all.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert was not laughing. “You are a little late in
+recalling this,” he remarked heavily.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, a good deal late,” agreed Patrick Ives. “But, you see,
+I hadn’t been going in for watching the sun rise for some time
+previous to the murder. Since then I have. And when I heard
+that letter read in court the other day, something clicked in
+my head. Not five o’clock, and the sun was up! Something
+wrong there. I went back to New York and looked it up in
+the public library. On Friday, June 9, 1916, the sun rose at
+four twenty-two A. M. On Wednesday, June 9, 1926, the sun
+rose at five twenty-eight. So that’s that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Have you a certified statement to that effect?” inquired
+Lambert, forlornly pompous.</p>
+
+<p>“No,” said Mr. Ives. “But I can lend you a World
+Almanac.”</p>
+
+<p>“You seem to find a trial for murder a very amusing affair,”
+remarked Lambert heavily, his eyes once more on the jury.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re wrong,” said Patrick Ives briefly. “I don’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not believe that your attitude makes further
+examination desirable,” commented Lambert judicially.
+“Cross-examine.”</p>
+
+<p>Farr rose casually from his chair, his hands in his pockets,
+his head cocked a trifle to one side. “Mr. Ives,” he said leisurely,
+“I’m going to ask you the one question that Mr. Lambert
+didn’t. Did you murder Madeleine Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>After a pause that seemed interminable, Pat Ives lifted his
+eyes from their scrutiny of his hands, locked at the edge of the
+witness box. “No,” he said tonelessly.</p>
+
+<p>“No further questions,” remarked Mr. Farr, still more
+leisurely resuming his seat.</p>
+
+<p>Lambert glared—swallowed—glared again, and turned on
+his heel. “Mrs. Ives, will you be good enough to take the
+stand?”</p>
+
+<p>She was on her feet before the words were off his lips,
+brushing by him with her light, swift step and a look of
+contemptuous anger that was bright and terrible as a sword.</p>
+
+<p>“Looks as though his precious Sue was going to give Uncle
+Dudley a bad half hour,” murmured the reporter exultantly.</p>
+
+<p>“Why?” whispered the red-headed girl. “Why did she look
+like that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because I rather fancy that Lambert has just a scrap
+exceeded his authority in his efforts to speed Pat Ives to the
+gallows. The old walrus made out a fairly damaging case against
+him, even if he did snort himself purple. If——”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Ives, I’m going to ask you to tell us in your own words
+just what occurred on the evening of the nineteenth of June,
+from the time that Mr. Farwell spoke to you at the club.
+I won’t interrupt unless I feel that something is not quite
+clear. At what time did the conversation with Mr. Farwell
+take place?”</p>
+
+<p>She looked so small, sitting there—so small and young and
+fearless, with her dark, bright eyes and her lifted chin and the
+pale gold wings of her hair folded under the curve of the little
+russet hat. She had no colour at all—not in her cheeks, not in
+her lips.</p>
+
+<p>“It was a little after five,” said Sue Ives, and the
+red-headed girl gave a sigh of sheer delight. Once or twice in a
+lifetime a voice like that falls on our lucky ears—a voice clear
+and fresh as running water, alive and beautiful and effortless.
+The girl in the box did not have to lift it a half tone to have
+it penetrate to the farthest corner of the gallery. “We got in
+from the links just at five, and Elliot came up and asked me if
+he could bring me something to drink. I said yes, and when he
+came back he suggested that we go over and sit on the steps,
+as he had a splitting headache, and everyone was making a
+good deal of a racket. We hadn’t been there more than five
+minutes before he told me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Before he told you what?” prompted Lambert helpfully.</p>
+
+<p>“Before he told me that Pat was having an affair with
+Mimi Bellamy.” She did not vouchsafe him even a glance,
+but kept the clear, stern little face turned squarely to the twelve
+attentive ones lifted to hers. “At first I thought that it was
+simply preposterous nonsense—I told him so. Everyone knew
+that Elliot was absolutely out of his head over Mimi, and I
+thought that he really was going a little mad. I could see that
+he’d been drinking, of course, and I wasn’t even as angry as
+I ought to have been, because he was so unhappy—dreadfully
+unhappy. And then he said that he’d spied on them—that he’d
+seen them go to the cottage together. Well, that—that was
+different. That didn’t sound like the kind of thing that you’d
+invent or imagine, no matter how unbalanced you were.”</p>
+
+<p>“You believed it?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, not at first—not quite. But it bothered me dreadfully
+all the way home from the club—all the time that we were
+standing around in our living room waiting for the cocktails.
+I couldn’t get it out of my head. And then Pat came in.”</p>
+
+<p>She paused, frowning a little at the memory of that sick
+perplexity.</p>
+
+<p>“You say that Mr. Ives came in?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. He was looking dreadfully tired and—excited. No,
+that’s not the word. Keyed up—different. Or perhaps it was
+just that I expected him to look different. I don’t know.
+Anyway, Elliot started to go then, and I went into the hall after
+him, because he’d been drinking a good deal more, and I was
+afraid that he’d talk as indiscreetly to someone else as he had
+to me. I couldn’t think very clearly yet, but I was quite sure
+that that ought to be stopped. So I asked him to be careful, and
+he said that he would.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you notice Melanie Cordier in the library?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. I was watching Elliot. He looked so wretchedly
+unhappy that I was really worried about him. Well, anyway, he
+went off without even saying good-bye, and I went back toward
+the living room. Just as I came up to it I heard George Dallas
+say, ‘We can count on you for the poker party to-night, can’t
+we?’ And Pat said, ‘I’ll surely try to make it, but don’t count
+on me.’ Something inside my head went click, and all the
+pieces in the puzzle fell into place. I walked straight into the
+room and up to where he was standing. He’d gone over to the
+table and was pouring out another of those new cocktails.
+Everyone was making a dreadful racket, laughing and talking.
+I said, ‘Nell Conroy wanted us to go to the movies to-night.
+Don’t you think that it would be rather fun?’ And he said,
+‘Sorry, but I told George that I’d run over for a poker game.
+Tell Nell that you’ll go, and then I won’t worry about you
+being lonely.’ I said, ‘That’s a good idea.’ And Pat said,
+‘Be back in a minute. I have some papers I want to get rid
+of.’</p>
+
+<p>“He went across the hall; I could hear his steps. I felt just
+exactly as though I’d taken poison and I stood there waiting for
+it to begin to work. Someone came up to me to say good-bye—I
+think it was the Conroys, and then everyone else began to go,
+too, the way they always do. I started to go out to the porch
+with them, and while I was passing through the hall I saw
+Pat standing by the desk. He was looking at some papers in his
+hand. I went on toward the porch, calling back over my
+shoulder that everyone was leaving. In a minute, he came out too.
+I looked to see whether he still had the papers in his hand, but
+he hadn’t. While we were both standing there watching them
+drive off, Melanie came out, announced dinner, and we went
+in. Pat stopped behind in the study for a moment, but he
+didn’t go near the desk drawer—I could see it from my place
+at the table.”</p>
+
+<p>“Could you have seen him take a book from the corner
+shelf?”</p>
+
+<p>“No—the screen between the rooms cut off that corner.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing unusual occurred at dinner?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. That made it worse. Nothing unusual occurred at all.
+Pat talked and laughed a good deal, but that’s what he always
+did.”</p>
+
+<p>“And after dinner?”</p>
+
+<p>“After dinner Mother Ives went out into the garden, and
+Pat asked me to come into the study to look at the clipper ship
+that he’d been making for Pete. All the time that I was
+supposed to be looking at it, I couldn’t take my eyes off the desk,
+wondering what he’d done with those papers—wondering
+what they were. There had been quite a little pile of them.
+After a while I couldn’t stand it any longer, and I said,
+‘If you want to say good-night to Pete and Polly, you’ll have to
+hurry. They ought to be asleep by now.’ He said, ‘Lord, that’s
+true!’ He snatched up the boat and started for the door, and
+I called after him, ‘I’m not coming. I kissed them good-night
+before dinner.’ I waited until I heard his footsteps on the
+stairs——”</p>
+
+<p>She paused for a moment, pushing the bright hair back from
+her brow as though she found it suddenly heavy.</p>
+
+<p>“And then, Mrs. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“Then,” said Sue Ives steadily, “I did something disgusting.
+I searched the desk. I pushed the door to, so that none of the
+servants could see me if they passed through the hall, and I
+hurried like mad. I don’t know exactly what I expected to find,
+but I thought that maybe those papers were letters from Mimi,
+and then I knew that Pat kept his check book there, too, and
+I thought that there might be entries of some kind that would
+tell me something; I could bear anything but not knowing. It
+was like a—like a frenzy. Oh, it was worse! The top drawer on
+the left-hand side of the desk was locked.”</p>
+
+<p>She paused again for a moment, staring down as curiously
+and intently at the upturned faces below her as they stared
+up at her; then, with a quick, impatient shake of her head
+she went on: “But that didn’t make any difference, because I
+knew where the key was. I used the top right-hand drawer
+myself for my household accounts and bills and loose silver, and
+I kept it locked because, whenever Pat brought home gold pieces
+from his directors’ meetings, we used to put them there. We
+saved them up until we had enough to get a present for the
+house, something beautiful and—— No, that doesn’t make any
+difference. We called the drawer the bank, and Pat showed
+me where he kept the key so that I could always get into it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where did he keep this key?”</p>
+
+<p>“In a tobacco jar on top of the bookcase. I found it and
+opened the drawer, and there were the papers, quite a thick
+packet of them, pushed way back in the drawer. They were
+bonds—eighty-five thousand Liberty, fifteen thousand municipal.
+I counted them twice to make sure.” For the first time since
+she had mounted the stand she turned her dark and shining
+eyes on the perturbed Lambert. “You were very anxious to
+know whether anyone but Pat had seen that money, weren’t
+you? Well, I saw it. And I was just as sure that Pat had
+taken it out of our safe-deposit box in order to run away
+with Mimi Bellamy as I was that I was standing there
+counting it—just as sure as that. I put it back and locked the drawer
+and dropped the key back into the tobacco jar and went to
+the flower room to telephone to Stephen Bellamy. The clock
+in the hall said five minutes past eight. I hadn’t been in the
+study for more than ten minutes.” Once more she lifted her
+hands to that bright hair. “Do you want me to repeat the
+telephone conversation?”</p>
+
+<p>“Was it substantially the same as Miss Page gave it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly the same, word for word.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then I hardly think that that will be necessary. Just tell
+us what you did after you finished telephoning.”</p>
+
+<p>“I went to the foot of the nursery stairs and called up to ask
+Pat if he had absolutely decided to go to the poker game. He
+called back yes, and asked if he couldn’t drop me at the
+Conroys’. I told him that I’d rather walk. I got that flannel coat
+out of the closet and started off for the gate at the back of the
+house that led to the back road. I was almost running.”</p>
+
+<p>“Had you planned any course of action?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I hadn’t any definite plan, but I knew that I had to get
+to Stephen and make him stop Mimi, and that every minute
+was precious. Just as I got to the gate, I noticed that a wind
+had sprung up—quite a cold wind—and I remembered that
+Mother Ives had told me at dinner that Polly’s ear had been
+hurting her, and that she slept right by the window where
+that wind would blow on her, so I turned back to the house to
+tell Miss Page to be sure to put a screen around the head of
+her crib. I saw Mother Ives at the far end of the rose garden,
+but I thought that it would take as long to call her and explain
+as it would to do it myself. So I ran on to the house, and I
+was halfway up the nursery stairs before I heard Pat’s voice.
+I thought he was talking to the babies, and I hurried up the
+last few steps. I was almost at the nursery door when I heard
+another voice—Kathleen Page’s. It wasn’t coming from the
+nursery; it was coming from her room. She was saying, ‘Don’t
+let her send me away from you—don’t, don’t! All I want——’ ”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour——”</p>
+
+<p>Farr’s warning voice was hardly swifter than Judge
+Carver’s: “I am afraid that you cannot tell us what you heard,
+Mrs. Ives.”</p>
+
+<p>“I cannot tell you what I heard Kathleen Page saying?”</p>
+
+<p>The wonder in the clear, incredulous voice penetrated the
+farthest corner of the courtroom.</p>
+
+<p>“No. Simply confine yourself to what you did.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did? I did nothing whatever. I could no more have moved
+a step nearer to the door than if I had been nailed to the floor.
+She was crying dreadfully, in horrid little pants and gasps. It
+was absolutely sickening. Pat said, ‘Keep quiet, you little
+lunatic. Do you want——’ ”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Ives, the Court has already warned you that you
+are not able to tell us what was said.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why am I not able to tell you what was said? I told you
+what we said downstairs.”</p>
+
+<p>Judge Carver leaned toward her, his black sleeves flowing
+majestically over the edge of the rail. “No objection was raised
+as to that conversation. Mr. Farr objects to this and the Court
+sustains him. For your own sake, the Court requests you to
+conform promptly to its rulings.”</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the two pairs of dark eyes met in an exchange
+of glances more eloquent than words; a look of grave warning
+and one of fearless rebellion.</p>
+
+<p>“I do not understand your rules. What am I permitted to
+tell of the things that I am asked to explain?”</p>
+
+<p>“Simply tell us what you did after you heard the voices in the
+room.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well; I will try again. I stood there for a moment,
+staring at the door to the day nursery. The key was on the
+outside so that the babies couldn’t lock themselves in. I don’t
+remember moving, but I must have moved, because suddenly
+I had the door knob in my hand. I jerked it toward me and
+slammed the door so hard that it nearly threw me off my feet.
+The key——”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, yes,” cut in Lambert, his face suffused with a sudden
+and terrifying premonition. “We needn’t go too much into all
+these details, you know. We want to stick to our story as
+closely as possible. You didn’t say anything, did you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“Just went on downstairs to meet Stephen Bellamy, didn’t
+you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“You did not?” Mr. Lambert’s blank query was enough
+to wring commiseration from a stone. Sue Ives did not look
+particularly merciful, however. She had turned in her chair so
+that she faced her devoted adversary squarely. She leaned
+forward a little now, her lovely mouth schooled to disdain, her
+eyes under their level brows bright with anger.</p>
+
+<p>“No, not then. I was telling you what I did. I turned the
+key in the lock and put it in my pocket. You didn’t want me
+to say that, did you, Uncle Dudley? You wanted everyone to
+believe that it was Pat who murdered Mimi, didn’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Ives—Mrs. Ives——”</p>
+
+<p>“Silence! Silence!”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Ives!”</p>
+
+<p>Over the outraged clamour of the law, her voice rose, clear
+and triumphant: “He didn’t murder her, because he was locked
+in those rooms until quarter to eleven that night, and I had the
+key in my pocket. Now, you can all strike that out of the
+record!”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Ives!” Over the last crash of the gavel, Judge
+Carver’s voice was shaken with something deeper than anger. “Mrs.
+Ives, if you are not immediately silent, the Court will be
+obliged to have you removed.”</p>
+
+<p>“Removed?” She was on her feet in an instant, poised and
+light. “You wish me to go?”</p>
+
+<p>“I wish you to get yourself in hand immediately. You are
+doing yourself untold injury by pursuing this line of conduct. The
+rules that you are refusing to obey were made largely for your
+own protection.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t want to be protected. I want to tell the truth.
+Apparently no one wants to hear it.”</p>
+
+<p>“On the contrary, you are permitted to take the stand for
+that express purpose.”</p>
+
+<p>“For that purpose? To tell the truth?” The scorn in her
+voice was almost gay.</p>
+
+<p>“Precisely. The limits that are imposed are for your
+benefit, and you are injuring your co-defendant as well as yourself
+by refusing to abide by them.”</p>
+
+<p>“Stephen?” She paused at that, considering gravely. “I don’t
+want to do that, of course. Very well, I will try to go on.” She
+turned back to her chair, and a long sigh of incredulous relief
+trembled through the courtroom.</p>
+
+<p>“I have forgotten where I stopped.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were about to tell us what you did after you came
+down the nursery stairs?” Lambert’s shaken voice was hardly
+audible.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. Well, then—then we did exactly what Stephen said
+we did. We drove through the back road to the River Road,
+where we turned to the left and went into Lakedale in order
+to get more gasoline. I distinctly remember the time, because
+we had been discussing whether the movies would be out by
+the time that we got back. It was twenty-five minutes past nine.
+After that we retraced our steps—down the River Road to the
+back road, down to the place in the back road where I had
+met Stephen, past our house into the main street of the village,
+past the movie house, which was dark, and up the main street,
+which runs into the Perrytown Highway—up the Perrytown
+Highway to the Bellamy house.</p>
+
+<p>“I was absolutely sure that I saw a light over the garage, but
+it certainly wasn’t there a minute or so afterwards, and I
+decided that I might as well go in anyway. I was beyond
+bothering much about any minor conventions, and I thought that if
+Mimi were actually there, it would be a heavenly relief to put
+all the cards on the table and have it out with her once and
+forever. Mimi wasn’t there, of course; it was then that Steve
+called up the Conroys. When he found that she wasn’t there,
+I was really terrified at his condition. He was as quiet as
+usual, but he didn’t seem to understand anything at all that
+was said to him. He didn’t even bother to listen. He had some
+kind of a chill, and he just sat there shivering, while I reassured
+and argued and explained.</p>
+
+<p>“I could have saved my breath. He didn’t even hear me. He
+did finally rouse himself to telephone the police and the
+hospital; the rest of the time he just sat there staring and
+shivering. He wanted me to call up Pat and the Dallases, and of
+course I knew that that wouldn’t do any good—Pat was locked
+up two stories away from a telephone. Finally I asked, ‘Did
+you see what direction she was going in when she left?’ He
+shook his head. I said, ‘But she told you that she was going
+toward the Conroys’?’ He nodded. I said, ‘Well, maybe she
+turned her ankle and fainted somewhere along the side of the
+road—she always wears such dreadfully high heels. We might
+take the car and turn the headlights along the edge of the road
+and see if we can get any trace of her. Come on!’</p>
+
+<p>“I knew that that was perfect nonsense, but I was desperate,
+and I thought that there was just a chance that it might rouse
+him. It did. It was exactly as though you’d put a galvanic
+shock through him. He jerked out of his chair. He was out in
+the hall without even waiting to look back at me, and I had
+to run to get to the car before he started it.</p>
+
+<p>“We got off with such a jerk that it nearly threw me out of
+the car, and I was really afraid that he was going to dash us
+against one of the gateposts. I said, ‘If we’re going to find
+Mimi, Steve, we must go slowly, mustn’t we? We must look
+carefully.’ He said, ‘That’s right!’ And after that we literally
+crept, all the way to the Conroys’.”</p>
+
+<p>“How far was that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, not far—not half a mile—just a little way. It wasn’t
+until after we got past their entrance that we decided that——”
+She paused for a moment, her eyes dilated strangely in her
+small pale face; then she wrung her hands together more
+closely as though in that hard contact she found comfort, and
+continued steadily in her low voice. “We decided that we might
+as well go on.”</p>
+
+<p>Lambert, paler than she, said just as steadily, “Might as
+well go on where, Mrs. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“Go on to the gardener’s cottage at Orchards,” said Susan
+Ives.</p>
+
+<p>In the gray light of the courtroom, the faces of the
+occupants looked gray, too—sharpened, fearful, full of an ominous
+unease. More than one of them glanced swiftly over a hunched
+shoulder at the blue-coated guardians of the door, and then
+back again, with somewhat pinched and rueful countenance, at
+the slight occupant of the witness box. The figure sat so quietly
+there in the gathering shadows; to many who watched it seemed
+that there slanted across her lifted face another shadow
+still—the shadow of the block, of the gallows, of the chair. . . .</p>
+
+<p>“Is she confessing?” asked the red-headed girl in a small
+colourless voice.</p>
+
+<p>“Wait!” said the reporter. “God knows what she’s doing.”</p>
+
+<p>Judge Carver leaned suddenly toward Lambert.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Lambert, it is already considerably past four. Is this
+testimony likely to continue for some time?”</p>
+
+<p>“For some time, Your Honour.”</p>
+
+<p>“In that case,” said Judge Carver gravely, “the Court
+considers it advisable to adjourn until ten to-morrow. Court is
+dismissed.”</p>
+
+<p>The small figure moved lightly down from the witness stand
+into the deeper shadows—deeper still—she was gone. The sixth
+day of the Bellamy trial was over.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch07">
+
+<h2>Chapter VII</h2>
+
+<p>The reporter cast an anxious eye at the red-headed girl.
+“You’ve been crying,” he said accusingly.</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl looked unrepentant.</p>
+
+<p>“Of all the little idiots! What’s Sue Ives to you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Never mind,” said the red-headed girl with dignity. “I can
+cry if I want to. I can cry all night if I want to. Keep quiet.
+Here she is!”</p>
+
+<hr>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Ives, what made you decide to go on to the cottage?”
+Lambert’s voice was very gentle.</p>
+
+<p>“I think that it was Stephen’s idea, but I’m not absolutely
+sure. I was at my wit’s end by this time, you see. But I believe
+that it was Steve who suggested that maybe she had been taken
+ill or perhaps even fallen asleep at the cottage. I remember
+agreeing that it was stupid of us not to have thought of that
+before. At any rate, we both agreed to go on to the cottage.”</p>
+
+<p>She stopped again and sat for a moment locking and
+unlocking her fingers, her eyes fixed on something far beyond the
+courtroom door.</p>
+
+<p>“What time did you arrive at the cottage?”</p>
+
+<p>“At about quarter past ten, I believe—twenty minutes past
+perhaps. It isn’t more than a five-minute drive. We drove the
+car up through the lodge gates and then turned off the little dirt
+road to the cottage. We drove it right up to the front steps,
+and then I said, ‘It’s no good; there’s no light in the place. She
+isn’t here.’ Steve said, ‘Maybe she left a note saying where she
+was going,’ and I said, ‘That’s perfectly possible. Let’s go in
+and see.’ He helped me out, and just as we got to the door,
+I said, ‘Well, we’ll never know. The place will be locked, of
+course.’ Steve had his hand on the door knob, and he pushed it
+a little. He said, ‘No, it’s open. That’s queer.’ I said, ‘Probably
+she thought that he might come later.’ And he opened the door
+and we went in.”</p>
+
+<p>She sat staring with that curious, intent rigidity at that
+far-off spot beyond the other closed door, and the courtroom
+followed her glance with uneasy eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“And then?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. And then when we got in there wasn’t any light, of
+course. Steve asked, ‘Do you know where the switch is?’ And
+I told him, ‘There isn’t any switch. Douglas has always been
+talking about putting electricity in these cottages, but he never
+has.’ Steve said, ‘Well, there must be a light somewhere,’ and I
+said, ‘Oh, of course there is. There always used to be an old
+brass lamp here in the corner by the front door—let’s see.’ It
+was right there on the same table. There were matches there,
+too, and I struck one of them and lit it. Steve had stepped by
+me into the room; he was standing by the door, and he stood
+aside to let me pass. There was a little breeze from the open
+door, and I had put up one hand to shield the light and keep it
+from flickering. I was looking at the piano, because I’d never
+remembered seeing a piano there before. I was half-way across
+the room before I—before I——” The voice shuddered slowly
+away to silence.</p>
+
+<p>After a long pause, Lambert asked, “Before you did what,
+Mrs. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>She gave a convulsive start, as though someone had let fall
+a heavy hand across the nightmare. “Before I—saw her.”</p>
+
+<p>The voice was hardly a whisper, but there was no one in the
+room beyond the reach of its stilled horror.</p>
+
+<p>“It was Mrs. Bellamy that you saw?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I——” She swallowed—tried to speak—swallowed
+again, and lifted a hand to her throat. “I’m sorry. Might I
+have a glass of water? Is that all right?”</p>
+
+<p>In all that room no one stirred save the clerk of the Court,
+who poured a glass of water with careful gravity and handed it
+up to her over the edge of the box. She drank it slowly, as
+though she found in this brief respite life itself. When she had
+finished it, she put it down gently and said, “Thank you,” in a
+voice once more clear and steady.</p>
+
+<p>“You were telling us that you saw Mrs. Bellamy.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. . . . I must have dropped the lamp immediately; all I
+remember was that we were standing there in the dark. I heard
+Stephen say, ‘Don’t move. Where are the matches?’ He needn’t
+have told me not to move. If I could have escaped death itself
+by stepping aside one inch I could not have moved that inch. I
+said, ‘I have them here—in my pocket.’ He said, ‘Strike one.’
+I tried three times. The third time it lit, and he went by me
+and knelt down beside her. He touched her wrist and said,
+‘Mimi, did it hurt? Did it hurt, darling?’ The match went out
+and I started to strike another. He said, ‘Never mind. She’s
+dead.’ I said, ‘I know it. Dead people can’t close their eyes,
+can they?’ He said, ‘I have closed them. She’s been murdered. I
+got you into this, Sue, and I’ll get you out of it. Where are
+you?’ I tried to say, ‘Here,’ but I couldn’t. And then I thought
+that I heard something move—outside—in the bushes—and I
+screamed.</p>
+
+<p>“I’d never done that before in my life. It didn’t sound like
+me at all. It sounded like someone quite different. Steve
+whispered, ‘For God’s sake, be still.’ I said, ‘I heard someone
+moving.’ He said ‘It was I, coming toward you. Give me your hand.’
+His was so cold on my wrist that it was horrible.</p>
+
+<p>“I put my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming
+again, and he pulled me through the hall and on to the porch.
+I said, ‘Steve, we can’t leave her there like that—we can’t.’ He
+said, ‘She doesn’t need us any more. Get in the car.’ I pulled
+back, and he said, ‘Listen to me, Sue. It doesn’t make any
+difference how innocent we are, if it is ever known that we were
+in that room this evening, we’ll never be able to make one
+human being in God’s world believe that we aren’t guilty—and
+we’ll have to make twelve of them believe. I’ve got to get you
+home. Get into the car.’ So I got in, and he drove me home.”</p>
+
+<p>She was silent, and the courtroom was silent too. To the
+red-headed girl, it seemed as though for a space everyone had
+foregone even the habit of breath and held it suspended until that
+voice should finish its dreadful tale. She could see Patrick Ives
+in his corner by the window. A long time ago he had buried his
+black head in his hands, and he did not lift it now. His mother
+had placed one small gloved hand on his knee. It rested there
+lightly, but she was not looking at him; her eyes had never
+wavered from Sue Ives’s white face. Long ago the winter roses
+had faded in her own, but it was as gravely and graciously
+composed as on that first day.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you drive straight home, Mrs. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“Straight home. Stephen spoke two or three times; I don’t
+remember saying anything at all. He told me to say that we’d
+driven over to Lakedale, and then he said that everything would
+be all right, because no one would know that Elliot had spoken
+to me, and no one could possibly know that we had gone to the
+cottage. I remember nodding, and then we were at our gate.
+Stephen said, ‘You might as well give me that signal that we
+decided on before to let me know whether Pat’s there; will you,
+Sue?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ He said, ‘You might ask him whether he
+heard from her this evening.’ I said, ‘Steve, it isn’t us that this
+is happening to, is it? It isn’t us—not Pat and you and I and
+Mimi?’ He said, ‘Yes, it’s us. I’ll wait right here. Hurry, will
+you?’</p>
+
+<p>“I went into the house. All the lights were out except one in
+the hall, but I went out through the study and the dining room
+to the pantry. It connects with the servants’ quarters, and I
+wanted to make sure that none of them were about, as I had
+to go up and unlock the day nursery, and I was afraid that
+Kathleen Page might make a scene. It was all dark and quiet;
+there wasn’t anyone there. I passed the ice box as I came back,
+and I could see the fruit through the glass door. I remembered
+that Pat couldn’t have taken it to Mother Ives, and I put some
+on a plate and went upstairs. Her door was open; she always
+left it open so that we could say good-night if we came in before
+eleven.”</p>
+
+<p>“Were you with her long?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no, only a minute. I told her that Steve and I had
+driven over to Lakedale instead of going to the movies, and
+kissed her good-night. Then I went around the gallery and on
+up to the nursery wing. I unlocked the door and pushed it
+open, but I didn’t go in. Pat was sitting by the table, reading.
+The door to Miss Page’s room was closed. He sat there looking
+at me for a moment, and then he stood up and came into the
+hall, pulling the nursery door to behind him. He said, ‘I didn’t
+know that you had it in you to play an ugly trick like that,
+Sue.’ I said, ‘I didn’t know it either.’ I went down to the study
+and lit the light—twice. I waited until I heard the car start, and
+then I went up to my room and took off my clothes and went to
+bed. There were several lights in the room, and I kept every one
+of them burning until after the sun was up. In the morning I
+got up and dressed and went to church, and it was just a little
+while after I got home that we heard that Mimi’s body had been
+found. And Monday evening both Stephen and I were put under
+arrest.”</p>
+
+<p>She was silent for a moment, and then said in a small,
+exhausted voice, “That’s all. Must I wait?”</p>
+
+<p>Lambert said gravely and gently, “I’m afraid so. When was
+the first time that you told this story, Mrs. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“Night before last—to you—after they found my finger
+print, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is the full and entire account of how you spent the
+evening of the nineteenth of June, 1926?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“To the best of your knowledge, you have omitted nothing?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you; that will be all. Cross-examine.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Farr advanced leisurely toward the witness box and
+stood staring thoughtfully for a long moment at its pale
+occupant. Under those speculative eyes, the sagging shoulders
+straightened, the chin lifted.</p>
+
+<p>“You were perfectly familiar with the gardener’s cottage,
+were you not, Mrs. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“Perfectly.”</p>
+
+<p>“You remembered even where the lamp stood in the hall?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. I used to go there often as a child.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing had been changed since then?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. I was only there for a few seconds.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not long enough to notice a change of any kind whatever?”</p>
+
+<p>“There was the piano; I remember that.”</p>
+
+<p>She sat very straight, watching him with those wide, bright
+eyes as though he were some strange and dangerous beast.</p>
+
+<p>“Were you familiar with the back entrance from the River
+Road—to the Thorne estate, Mrs. Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“You could have found it at night quite easily?”</p>
+
+<p>“You mean by the lights of the automobile?”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Were you aware that it was a shorter way to reach Orchards
+than going back by way of Rosemont?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes; it was about three miles shorter.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why didn’t you take it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because when we were in Lakedale we had no idea of
+going to the cottage. We didn’t think of it until long after we
+had returned to Rosemont.”</p>
+
+<p>“But why didn’t you think of it before? You knew that in
+all probability Mrs. Bellamy was waiting for your husband at
+the cottage, didn’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>The question was asked in tones of the gentlest consideration,
+but the sentinel watching from the dark eyes was suddenly
+alert.</p>
+
+<p>“No, I didn’t know that at all. In the first place, I wasn’t
+sure that she had gone there; in the second place, I wasn’t sure
+that she had waited, even if she had gone.”</p>
+
+<p>“There was no harm in making sure, was there?”</p>
+
+<p>“I thought there was. My idea in seeing Stephen was to get
+him to talk to Mimi; I hadn’t the faintest desire to take part
+in the humiliating and painful scene that would have been
+inevitable if I had confronted her.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see. Still, you were willing to confront her in her own
+home, weren’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.” She bit her lip in an effort to concentrate on that.
+“But that wouldn’t have been tracking her down and spying on
+her, and by then——”</p>
+
+<p>“ ‘Yes’ is an answer, Mrs. Ives.”</p>
+
+<p>“You mean that it’s all the answer that you want?”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly.”</p>
+
+<p>“You didn’t really want to know why I did it?”</p>
+
+<p>Under the level irony of her glance the prosecutor’s eyes
+hardened. “For your own good, Mrs. Ives, I suggest that you
+do not attempt to bandy language with me. You were not only
+willing to see her in her home but not long after you went to
+seek her in the cottage, did you not?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. By that time we were both desperately worried and
+I put my own wishes aside.”</p>
+
+<p>“You wish us to understand that you went there on an
+errand of mercy?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am not asking you to understand anything. I was simply
+telling you why we went.”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly. Now, when you got to the cottage, Mrs. Ives, you
+say there was no light?”</p>
+
+<p>“There was no light.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you fortunately remembered that this lamp was in the
+hall?”</p>
+
+<p>“Fortunately?” repeated Susan Ives slowly, “I remembered
+that there was a lamp in the hall.”</p>
+
+<p>“How long has it been since you were at Orchards?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have not been there since my marriage—not for seven
+years.”</p>
+
+<p>“How long since you were in the cottage?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not sure—possibly a year or so before that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Were you a child nine years ago?”</p>
+
+<p>“A child? I was over twenty.”</p>
+
+<p>“I thought you told us that it was as a child that you went to
+the cottage.”</p>
+
+<p>“I went occasionally after I was older. I was very fond of the
+old gardener and his wife. They were German and very
+sensitive after the outbreak of the war. We all used to go down
+from time to time to try to cheer them up.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very considerate indeed—another errand of mercy. But
+about this lamp, now, that you remembered so providentially
+after nine years. You are quite sure that it wasn’t in the front
+parlour?”</p>
+
+<p>“Absolutely sure.”</p>
+
+<p>“It couldn’t have been standing on the little table that was
+overturned by Mimi Bellamy’s fall?”</p>
+
+<p>“How could it possibly have been standing there?”</p>
+
+<p>“I was asking you. You are perfectly sure that it wasn’t
+standing on that table, lighted, when you came in?”</p>
+
+<p>“I see.” The unwavering eyes burned brighter with that clear
+disdain. “I didn’t quite understand. You mean am I lying, don’t
+you? I have told you the truth; the lamp was on the table in the
+hall.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour, I ask to have that reply stricken from the
+record as unresponsive.”</p>
+
+<p>“It may be stricken from the record to the point where the
+witness says, ‘The lamp was on the table in the hall.’ ” Judge
+Carver stared down with stern, troubled eyes at the clear,
+unflinching face lifted to his. “Mrs. Ives, the Court again assures
+you that you do yourself no service by such replies and that they
+are entirely out of order. It requests that you refrain from
+them.”</p>
+
+<p>“I will try to, Your Honour.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Ives, you have told us that when you were standing in
+darkness you heard a sound that frightened you. Was it
+someone trying the door?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no; the door was open. It wasn’t anything as clear as
+that. I thought first that it was someone moving in the bushes,
+but it was probably simply my imagination.”</p>
+
+<p>“You didn’t hear anyone whistling?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are quite sure that neither of you locked the door?”</p>
+
+<p>“Absolutely. Why should we lock the door?”</p>
+
+<p>“I must remind you again, Mrs. Ives, that it is I who am
+examining you. Now, you say that you went into the room ahead
+of Mr. Bellamy?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“How far were you from the body when you first saw it?”</p>
+
+<p>In the paper-white face the eyes dilated, suddenly, dreadfully.
+“I don’t know. Quite near—three feet—four feet.”</p>
+
+<p>“You suspected that she was dead?”</p>
+
+<p>“I knew that she was dead. Her eyes were wide open.”</p>
+
+<p>“You did not go nearer to her than those three or four feet?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.” She forced the word through her lips with a dreadful
+effort.</p>
+
+<p>“You did not touch her?”</p>
+
+<p>“No—no.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then how did the bloodstains get on your coat?”</p>
+
+<p>At the sharp clang of that triumphant cry she shuddered and
+turned and came back to him slowly from the small, haunted
+room. “Bloodstains? There were no bloodstains on my coat.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you still claim that the coat that you smuggled out of
+your house Sunday morning was stained with grease from Mr.
+Bellamy’s car?”</p>
+
+<p>“No—no, I don’t claim that.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s prudent of you, as Sergeant Johnson has testified that
+there was no grease whatever on the car.”</p>
+
+<p>“I meant to explain that before,” said Sue Ives simply. “Only
+there were so many other things that I forgot. It was kerosene
+from the lamp—the coat was covered with it. I didn’t know
+how to explain it, so I thought that I had better get rid of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see,” said the prosecutor grimly. “You’re a very resourceful
+young woman, aren’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” said the clear, grave voice. “I don’t think that I’m
+particularly resourceful.”</p>
+
+<p>“I differ from you. . . . Mrs. Ives, you didn’t intend to
+tell this jury that you had been in the gardener’s cottage on the
+night of the nineteenth of June, did you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not if I could avoid doing so without perjuring myself.”</p>
+
+<p>“You decided to do so only when you were literally forced to
+it by information that you found was in the state’s possession?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is hard for me to answer that by yes or no,” said
+Susan Ives. “But I suppose that the fairest answer to it is yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“You had decided to withhold this vitally important
+information because you and Stephen Bellamy had together reached the
+conclusion that no twelve sane men could be found to accept
+the fantastic coincidence that you and he were in the room in
+which this murder was committed within a few minutes of this
+crime, and yet had nothing whatever to do with it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I think that again the answer should be yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are still of that opinion?”</p>
+
+<p>“I no longer have any opinion.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why should you have changed your opinion that twelve sane
+men could not possibly believe your story?”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not know whether they will believe me or not,” said
+Sue Ives, her eyes, fearless and unswerving, on the twelve stolid,
+inscrutable countenances raised to hers. “You see, I don’t know
+how true truth sounds.”</p>
+
+<p>“I should imagine not,” said the prosecutor, his voice cruelly
+smooth. “No further questions.”</p>
+
+<p>And at that Parthian shot the white lips in the white face
+before him curved suddenly and amazingly into the lovely irony
+of a smile, a last salute over the drawn swords before they
+were sheathed.</p>
+
+<p>“That will be all,” said Lambert’s voice gently. “You may
+stand down.”</p>
+
+<p>For a moment she did not move, but sat staring down with
+dark eyes to which the smile had not quite reached, at the
+twelve enigmatic countenances before her—at the slack,
+careless young one on the far end; the grim elderly one next to it;
+the small, deep-set eyes above the heavy jowls of that flushed
+one in the centre; the sleek attentive pallor of the one next
+to the door. She opened her lips as though to speak again,
+closed them with a small shake of her head, swept up gloves,
+bag and fur with one swift gesture, and without a backward
+glance was gone, moving across the cluttered space between
+her chair and the box with that light, sure step that seemed
+always to move across green grass, through sunlight and a
+little wind. She did not even look at Stephen Bellamy, but in
+the little space between their chairs their hands met once and
+clenched in greeting and swung free.</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour,” said Lambert, in the quiet, tired voice so
+many leagues removed from the old boom, “in view of Mrs.
+Ives’s evidence, I would like to have Mr. Bellamy take the
+stand once more. I have only one or two questions to put to
+him.”</p>
+
+<p>“He may take the stand,” said Judge Carver impassively.</p>
+
+<p>He took it steadily, the white face of horror that he had
+turned from the day before schooled once more to the old
+courtesy and quiet.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Bellamy, you have heard Mrs. Ives’s evidence as to
+the circumstance that led up to your visit to the gardener’s
+cottage and of the visit to the cottage itself. Is her description
+is accord with your own recollection?”</p>
+
+<p>“In complete accord.”</p>
+
+<p>“You would not change it in any particular?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. It is absolutely accurate.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nor add to it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. There is something that I believe that I should add.
+Mrs. Ives was not aware of the fact that I returned to the
+cottage again that night.”</p>
+
+<p>If Lambert also was not aware of it, he gave no sign. “For
+what purpose?”</p>
+
+<p>“I had no definite purpose—I did not wish to leave my wife
+alone in the cottage.”</p>
+
+<p>“At what time did you return?”</p>
+
+<p>“Very shortly after I left Mrs. Ives at her home. I actually
+didn’t know what I was doing. I took the wrong turn in the
+back road and drove around for a bit before I got straightened
+out, but it couldn’t have been for very long.”</p>
+
+<p>“How long did you stay?”</p>
+
+<p>“Until it began to get light; I didn’t look at the time.”</p>
+
+<p>“You did not disturb the contents of the cottage in any
+way?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; I left everything exactly as it was.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nor remove anything?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing—nothing whatever.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, Mr. Bellamy. That will be all, unless Mr.
+Farr has any questions.”</p>
+
+<p>“As a matter of fact, I have one or two questions,”
+remarked Mr. Farr, leisurely but grim. “You, too, are highly
+resourceful, Mr. Bellamy, aren’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I should hardly say that I had proved myself so.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, you can reassure yourself. That extra set of
+automobile tires had to be accounted for, hadn’t they?”</p>
+
+<p>“I should have accounted for them in any case.”</p>
+
+<p>“Should you, indeed? That’s very interesting, but hardly
+a responsive answer to my question. I’ll be grateful if you
+don’t make it necessary for me to pull you up on that again.
+Now, you say that you didn’t touch anything in the cottage?”</p>
+
+<p>“I said that I did not disturb anything.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you touched something, did you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“What?”</p>
+
+<p>“I touched her hand.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see. You were looking for the rings?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. I didn’t think of the rings.”</p>
+
+<p>“They were still there?”</p>
+
+<p>“Until you asked me this minute I had not thought of them.
+I do not believe that they were there.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Bellamy, I put it to you that you returned to that
+cottage with the express purpose of removing those rings, the
+necklace, and any traces that you or Mrs. Ives may have left
+behind you in your previous flight?”</p>
+
+<p>“You are wrong; I did not return for any of those purposes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then for what purpose?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because I did not wish to leave my wife alone.”</p>
+
+<p>“You consider that a plausible explanation?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no; simply a true one.”</p>
+
+<p>“She was dead, wasn’t she?”</p>
+
+<p>“She was dead.”</p>
+
+<p>“You knew that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“You knew that you couldn’t do anything for her, didn’t
+you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I wasn’t sure.” The voice was as quiet as ever, but once
+more the ripple of the clenched teeth showed in the cheek.
+“She was afraid of the dark.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of the dark?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; she was afraid to be alone in the dark.”</p>
+
+<p>“She was dead, wasn’t she?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes—yes, she was dead.”</p>
+
+<p>“You ask us to believe that you spent hours in momentary
+danger of arrest for murder because a woman who was stone
+dead had been afraid of the dark when she was alive?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. I don’t ask you to believe anything,” said Stephen
+Bellamy gently. “I was simply telling you what happened.”</p>
+
+<p>“You say that you didn’t touch anything else in the
+cottage?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing else.”</p>
+
+<p>“How could you find your way about without a light?”</p>
+
+<p>“I had a light; I took the flashlight from my car.”</p>
+
+<p>“So that you could make a thorough search of the premises
+for anything that had been left behind?”</p>
+
+<p>“We had left nothing behind.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you couldn’t have been sure of that, could you? A
+knife, perhaps? A knife’s an easy thing to lose.”</p>
+
+<p>“We had no knife.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Farr greeted this statement with an expression of
+profound skepticism. “Now, before I ask you to step down, Mr.
+Bellamy, I want to make sure that you haven’t one final
+installment to add for our benefit. That’s all that you have to
+tell us?”</p>
+
+<p>“That is all.”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure?”</p>
+
+<p>“Quite sure.”</p>
+
+<p>“This continued story that you have been presenting to us
+from day to day has reached its absolutely ultimate
+installment?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have already said that I have nothing to add to my
+statement.”</p>
+
+<p>“And this is the same story that you were so sure that no
+twelve sane men in the world would believe, isn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. It isn’t necessary to prove to me that I have been the
+fool of the world,” said Stephen Bellamy quietly. “I
+willingly admit it. My deepest regret is that my folly has involved
+Mrs. Ives too.”</p>
+
+<p>“You have had no cause to revise your opinion as to the
+skepticism that your account of that night’s doings would
+arouse in any twelve sane men, have you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, I have had excellent reason completely to revise
+it.”</p>
+
+<p>The low, pleasant voice seemed to jar on the prosecutor as
+violently as a bomb. “And what reason, may I ask?”</p>
+
+<p>“At the time that I arrived at that conclusion I had
+naturally had no opportunity to hear Mrs. Ives on the witness stand.
+Now that I have, it seems absolutely impossible to me that
+anyone could fail to believe her.”</p>
+
+<p>“That must be extremely reassuring for you,” remarked
+Mr. Farr in a voice so heavily charged with irony that it came
+close to cracking under the strain. “That will be all, thank
+you, Mr. Bellamy.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lambert rose slowly to his feet. “The defense rests,”
+he said.</p>
+
+<hr>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl watched them filing out through the
+door at the back without comment, and without comment she
+accepted the cake of chocolate and the large red apple. She
+consumed them in the same gloomy silence, broken only by an
+occasional furtive sniff and the application of a minute and
+inadequate handkerchief.</p>
+
+<p>“You promised me last night,” said the reporter accusingly,
+“that if I’d go home you’d stop crying and be reasonable and
+sensible and——”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not crying,” said the red-headed girl—“not so that
+anybody would notice anything at all if they weren’t practically
+spying on me. It’s simply that I’m a little tired and not exactly
+cheerful.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, it’s simply that, is it? Would you like my handkerchief
+too?” The red-headed girl accepted it ungratefully.</p>
+
+<p>“The worst thing about a murder trial,” she said, “is that
+it practically ruins everybody’s life. It’s absolutely horrible.
+They’re all going along peacefully and quietly, and the first
+thing they know they’re jerked out of their homes and into
+the witness box, and things that they thought were safe and
+hidden and sacred are blazoned out in letters three inches tall
+in every paper in the . . . That poor little Platz thing, and
+that wretched Farwell man, and poor little Mrs. Ives with
+her runaway husband, and Orsini with his jail sentence—it
+isn’t decent! What have they done?”</p>
+
+<p>The reporter said, “What, indeed?” in the tone of one who
+has not heard anything but the last three words. After a
+moment he inquired thoughtfully. “Have you ever thought
+about getting married?”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl felt her heart miss two beats and then
+race away like a wild thing. She said candidly, “Oh,
+often—practically all the time. All nice girls do.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do they?” inquired the reporter in a tone of genuine
+surprise. “Men don’t—hardly ever.” He continued to look at her
+abstractedly for quite a long time before he added, “Only about
+once in their lives.”</p>
+
+<p>He was looking at her still when the door behind the
+witness box opened.</p>
+
+<hr>
+
+<p>“Your Honour”—the lines in Mr. Lambert’s face stood
+out relentlessly, but his voice was fresh and strong—“gentlemen
+of the jury, it is not my intention to take a great amount
+of your time, in spite of the fact that there devolves on me as
+solemn a task as falls to the lot of any man—that of pleading
+with you for the precious gift of human life. I do not believe
+that the solemnity of that plea is enhanced by undue prolixity,
+by legal hairsplitting or by a confusion of issues essentially and
+profoundly simple. The evidence in the case has been intricate
+enough. I shall not presume to analyze it for you. It is your
+task, and yours alone, to scrutinize, weigh, and dispose of it.
+On the other hand, the case presents almost no legal intricacies;
+any that are present will be expounded to you by Judge
+Carver when the time comes.</p>
+
+<p>“When all is said and all is done, gentlemen, it is a very
+simple question that you have to decide—as simple as it is
+grave and terrible. The question is this: Do you believe the
+story that Stephen Bellamy and Susan Ives have told you in this
+courtroom? Is their story of what happened on that
+dreadful night a reasonable, a convincing and an honest explanation
+as to how they became involved in the tragic series of events
+that has blown through their peaceful homes like a malignant
+whirlwind, wrecking all their dearest hopes and their dearest
+realities? I believe that there can be but one answer to that
+question, and that not so long from now you will have given
+that answer, and that every heart in this courtroom will be
+the lighter for having heard it.</p>
+
+<p>“These two have told you precisely the same story. That
+Stephen Bellamy did not go quite to the end with it in the first
+instance is a circumstance that I deplore as deeply as any one
+of you, but I do not believe that you will hold it against him.
+He did not, remember, utter one syllable that was not strictly
+and accurately truthful. It had been agreed between them that
+if it were necessary to swerve one hairbreadth from the truth,
+they would not swerve that hairbreadth.</p>
+
+<p>“In persuading Mrs. Ives that her only safety lay in not
+admitting that she had been in the cottage that night, Mr.
+Bellamy made a grave mistake in judgment, but it was the
+mistake of a chivalrous and distraught soul, literally
+overwhelmed at the ghastly situation into which the two of them
+had been so incredibly precipitated.</p>
+
+<p>“As for Susan Ives, she was so shaken with horror to the very
+roots of her being—so stunned, so confused and confounded—that
+she was literally moving through a nightmare during the
+few days that preceded her arrest; and, gentlemen, in a
+nightmare the best of us do not think with our accustomed clarity
+and cogency. She did what she was told to do, and she was
+told that it would make my task easier if I did not know that
+she had been near the cottage that night. That, alas, settled it
+for her once and for all. She has always sought to make my
+tasks easier.</p>
+
+<p>“Stephen Bellamy undoubtedly remembered the old precept
+that it takes two to tell the truth—one to speak it and one to
+hear it. Possibly he believed that if there were two to speak
+it and twelve to hear it, it would be a more dangerous
+business. I do not agree with him. I believe that twelve attentive
+and intelligent listeners—as you have amply proved yourselves
+to be—make the best of all forums at which to present the
+truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. That is
+my belief, that was my considered advice, and it is my profound
+conviction that before many hours have passed I shall be
+justified of my belief.</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps you have guessed that my relations to Susan
+Ives are not the ordinary relations of counsel to client. Such,
+at any rate, is the case, and I do not shirk one of its
+implications. There is no tie of blood between us, but I am bound to
+her by every other tie of affection and admiration. I can say
+that I believe she is as dear to me as any daughter,—dearer,
+perhaps, than any daughter, because she is what most men only
+dream that their daughter may be. For the first time in my life
+I have offended her since I came to this court—offended her
+because she believed that I was more loyal to her welfare than
+her wishes. But she will forgive me even for that, because
+she knows that I am only a stupid old man who would give
+every hope that he has of happiness to see hers fulfilled, and
+who, when he pleads for her life to-day, is pleading for
+something infinitely dearer to him than his own.</p>
+
+<p>“If, later, you say to one another and to yourselves, ‘The
+old man is prejudiced in her favour; we must take that into
+account,’ I say to you, ‘And so you must—and so you must—well
+into account.’ I am prejudiced because I have known her
+since she was so small that she did not come to my knee;
+because I have watched her with unvarying wonder and devotion
+from the days that she used to cling to me, weeping because
+her black kitten had hurt its paw, or radiant because there was
+a new daisy in her garden; because I have watched her from
+those bright, joyous days to these dark and terrible ones, and
+never once have I found a trace of alloy in her gold. I have
+found united in her the traits we seek in many different forms—all
+the gallantry and honesty of a little boy, all the gaiety
+and grace of a little girl, all the loyalty and courage of a
+man, all the tenderness and beauty of a woman. If you think
+I am prejudiced in her favour you will be right, gentlemen.
+And if that fact prejudices me in your eyes, make the most of
+it.</p>
+
+<p>“Of Stephen Bellamy I will say only this: If I had a
+daughter I would ask nothing more of destiny than that such a man
+should seek her for his wife—and you may make the most of
+that too.</p>
+
+<p>“On this subject I will not touch again, I promise. It is not
+part and parcel of the speech of counsel for the defense to the
+jury in a murder trial to touch on his feeling toward his clients.
+I am grateful for the indulgence of both the Court and the
+prosecution in permitting me to dwell on them at some length.
+During the course of Mrs. Ives’s examination something as to
+our relation was inadvertently disclosed. In any case, I should
+have considered it my duty to inform you of it, as well as of
+every other fact in this case. I have now done so.</p>
+
+<p>“A few days ago I said to you that Susan Ives was rich
+in many things. When I said that I was not thinking of money;
+I was referring to things that are the treasured possessions,
+the precious heritage, of many a humble and modest soul. Love,
+peace, beauty, security, serenity, health—these the least of us
+may have. As I have said, I am pretty close to being an old
+man now, and in my time I have heard much talk of class
+feeling and class hatred. I have even been told that it is
+difficult to get justice for the rich from the poor or mercy for
+the poor from the rich. I believe both these statements to be
+equally vile and baseless slanders.</p>
+
+<p>“In this great country of which you and I are proud and
+privileged citizens, we are all rich—rich in opportunity and in
+liberty—and there is no room in our hearts for grudging envy,
+for warped malice. We do not say, ‘This woman is rich; she
+has breeding; she has intelligence and culture and position,
+therefore she is guilty.’ We do not say, ‘This man is a graduate
+of one of our greatest universities. Five generations of his
+ancestors have owned land in this country, and have lived on it
+honourably and decently, gentlefolk of repute and power
+in their communities; he is the possessor of a distinguished name
+and a distinguished record, therefore he is a murderer!’ We
+do not say that. No; you and I and the man in the street say,
+‘It is impossible that two people with this life behind them and
+a richer and finer one before them should stoop to so low and
+foul a weapon as an assassin’s knife and a coward’s blow in
+the dark.’</p>
+
+<p>“But even in the strictly material sense of wealth, Mrs.
+Ives is not a wealthy woman. I should like, in the simple
+interests of truth, to dispel the legends of a marble heart
+moving through marble halls that has been growing about her. She
+has lived for several happy years in what you have heard
+described to you as a farm house—a simple, unpretentious place
+that she made lovely with bright hangings and open fires and
+books and prints and flowers. If you had rung her doorbell
+before that fatal day in June, no powdered flunky would have
+opened it to you. It might have been opened by Mrs. Ives
+herself, or by Mr. Ives’s mother, or by a little maid in a neat dark
+frock and a white apron. Whoever had opened it to you, you
+would have found within a charming and friendly simplicity
+that might well cause you a little legitimate envy; you would
+have found nothing more.</p>
+
+<p>“Sue Ives had what all your wives have, I hope—flowers
+in her garden, babies in her nursery, sunshine in her windows.
+With these any woman is rich, and so was she. As for Stephen
+Bellamy, he had no more than any good clerk or mechanic—a
+little house, a little car, a little maid of all work to help his
+pretty wife. That much for the legend of pride and pomp and
+power and uncounted millions that has grown up about these
+two. In the public press this legend has flourished extravagantly;
+it is of little concern to you or to any of us, save in so far
+as the preservation of truth is the concern of every one of
+us.</p>
+
+<p>“The story that you have heard from the lips of Mrs. Ives
+and Mr. Bellamy is a refutation of every charge that has been
+brought against them. It is a fearless, straightforward,
+circumstantial and coherent account of their every action on the
+evening of that terrible and momentous night. Granted that
+every witness produced by the state here in order to confound
+and confuse them has spoken the absolute and exact
+truth—a somewhat extravagant claim, some of you may feel—granted
+even that, however, still you will find not one word of
+their testimony that is not perfectly consistent with the
+explanation of their actions that evening offered you by the
+defendants.</p>
+
+<p>“Not only does the state’s testimony not conflict with ours—it
+corroborates it. The overheard telephone conversation, the
+knife from the study, the stained flannel coat, the visit to
+Stephen Bellamy’s house, the tire tracks in the mud outside
+the cottage, the fingerprints on the lamp within—there is
+the state’s case, and there also, gentlemen, is ours. These
+sinister facts, impressive and terrible weapons in the state’s hands,
+under the clear white light of truth become a very simple,
+reasonable and inevitable set of circumstances, fully explained
+and fully accounted for. The more squarely you look at them,
+the more harmless they become. I ask you to subject them to
+the most careful and severe scrutiny, entirely confident as to
+the result.</p>
+
+<p>“The state will tell you, undoubtedly, that in spite of what
+you have heard, the fact remains that Susan Ives and Stephen
+Bellamy had the means, the motive, and the opportunity to
+commit this crime. It is our contention that they had nothing
+of the kind. No weapon has been traced to either of them; it
+would have been to all intents and purposes physically
+impossible for them to reach the gardener’s cottage, execute this
+murder and return to Stephen Bellamy’s house between the
+time that the gasoline vender saw them leave Lakedale and the
+time that Orsini saw them arrive at Mr. Bellamy’s home—a
+scant forty minutes, according to the outside figures of their
+own witnesses; not quite twenty-five according to ours.</p>
+
+<p>“But take the absolute substantiated forty-minute limit—from
+9:15 to 9:55. You are asked to believe that in that time
+they hurled themselves in a small rickety car over ten miles,
+possibly more, of unfamiliar roads in total darkness, took a rough
+dirt cut-off, groped their way through the back gates of the
+Thorne place to the little road that led to the cottage, got out,
+entered the cottage, became involved in a bitter and violent
+scene with Mimi Bellamy which culminated in her death by
+murder; remained there long enough to map out a campaign
+which involved removing her jewels from her dead body, while
+fabricating an elaborate alibi—and also long enough to permit
+Mr. Thorne, who has arrived on the piazza, ample time to
+get well on his way; came out, got back into the invisible
+automobile and arrived at Mr. Bellamy’s house, three miles
+away, at five minutes to ten. Gentlemen, does this seem to you
+credible? I confess that it seems to me so incredible—so
+fantastically, so grotesquely incredible—that I am greatly inclined
+to offer you an apology for going into it at such length. So
+much for the means, so much for the opportunity; now for the
+motive.</p>
+
+<p>“There, I think, we touch the weakest point in the state’s
+case against these two. That the state itself fully grasps its
+weakness, I submit, is adduced from the fact that not one
+witness they have put on the stand has been asked a single
+question that would tend to establish either of the motives ascribed
+to them by the state—widely differing motives, alike only in
+their monstrous absurdity. It is the state’s contention, if it still
+cleaves to the theory originally advanced, that Madeleine
+Bellamy was murdered by Susan Ives because she feared poverty,
+and that she was aided and abetted by Stephen Bellamy in this
+bloody business because he was crazed by jealousy.</p>
+
+<p>“I ask you to consider these two propositions with more
+gravity and concentration than they actually merit, because on
+your acceptance or rejection of them depends your acceptance
+or rejection of the guilt of these two. You cannot dismiss them
+as too absurd for any earthly consideration. You cannot say,
+‘Oh, of course that wasn’t the reason they killed her, but
+that’s not our concern; there may have been another reason
+that we don’t know anything about.’ No, fortunately for us,
+you cannot do that.</p>
+
+<p>“These, preposterous as they are, are the only motives
+suggested; they are the least preposterous ones that the state could
+find to submit to you. If you are not able to accept them the
+state’s case crumbles to pieces before your eyes. If you look
+at it attentively for as much as thirty seconds, I believe that
+you will see it crumbling. What you are asked to believe is
+this: That for the most sordid, base, mercenary and calculating
+motives—the desire to protect her financial future from
+possible hazard—Susan Ives committed a cruel, wicked, and bloody
+murder.</p>
+
+<p>“For two hours you listened to Susan Ives speaking to you
+from that witness box. If you can believe that she is sordid,
+base, calculating, mercenary, cruel, and bloody, I congratulate
+you. Such power of credulity emerges from the ranks of mere
+talent into those of sheer genius.</p>
+
+<p>“Stephen Bellamy, you are told, was her accomplice—driven
+stark, staring, raving mad by the most bestial, despicable,
+and cowardly form of jealousy. You have heard Stephen
+Bellamy, too, from that witness box, telling you of the anguish
+of despair that filled him when he thought that harm had
+befallen his beloved—if you can believe that he is despicable,
+cowardly, bestial, and mad, then undoubtedly you are still able
+to believe in a world tenanted by giants and fairies and ogres
+and witches and dragons. Not one of them would be so strange
+a phenomenon as the transformation of this adoring, chivalrous,
+and restrained gentleman into the base villain that you are
+asked to accept.</p>
+
+<p>“The state’s case, gentlemen! It crumbles, does it not? It
+crumbles before your eyes. Means, motives, opportunity—look
+at them steadily and clearly and they vanish into thin air.</p>
+
+<p>“If means, motives, and opportunity constitute a basis for an
+accusation of murder, this trial might well end in several
+arrests that would be as fully justified as the arrests of Susan
+Ives and Stephen Bellamy. I make no such accusations; I am
+strong and sure and safe enough in the proved innocence of
+these two to feel no need of summoning others to the bar of
+justice. That is neither my duty nor my desire, but it would
+be incompatible with the desire for abstract truth not to point
+out that far stronger hypothetical cases might be made out
+against several whose paths also have crossed the path of the
+ill-starred girl who died in that cottage.</p>
+
+<p>“We come as close to establishing as perfect an alibi as it
+is likely that innocent people, little suspecting that one will be
+called for, would be able to establish. What alibi had practically
+anyone who has appeared against these two for that night?
+The knife that Dr. Stanley described to you might have been
+one of various types—such a knife as might have been well
+discovered in a tool chest, in a kitchen drawer, in the equipment
+of a sportsman.</p>
+
+<p>“You have analyzed the motives ascribed to the defendants.
+I submit that, taken at random, three somewhat solider motives
+might be robbery or blackmail or drunken jealousy. When one
+possible witness removes himself to Canada, when another
+takes his life—they are safely out of reach of our jurisdiction,
+but not beyond the scope of our speculations. I submit that
+these specifications are at least fruitful of interest. Abandoning
+them, however, I suggest to you that that girl, young,
+beautiful, fragile, and unprotected in that isolated cottage with
+jewels at her throat and on her fingers, was the natural prey of
+any nameless beast roving in the neighbourhood—one who
+had possibly stalked her from the time that she left her house,
+one who had possibly been prowling through the grounds of this
+deserted estate on some business, sinister or harmless. Ostensibly
+this was a case of murder for robbery; it remains still the
+simplest and most natural explanation—too simple and too
+natural by half for a brilliant prosecutor, an ambitious police
+force, and frenzied public, all clamouring for a victim.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, they have had their victims; I hope that they do not
+sleep worse at night for the rest of their lives when they think
+of the victims that they selected.</p>
+
+<p>“Two things the state has made no attempt to explain—who
+it was that stole the note from Patrick Ives’s study and
+who it was that laughed when Madeleine Bellamy screamed.
+Whoever took the note, it was not Susan Ives. She had no
+possible motive in denying having taken it; she freely admitted
+that she searched the study for some proof of her husband’s
+duplicity, and she also admitted that Elliot Farwell had
+informed her that he believed her husband was meeting
+Madeleine Bellamy at the cottage that very night. The note, which
+we presume was making a rendezvous, would in no way have
+added to her previous information. Any one of six or eight
+servants or six or eight guests may have intercepted it;
+whoever did so knew when and where Madeleine Bellamy was to
+be found that night.</p>
+
+<p>“The laugh is more baffling and disconcerting still; the state
+must find it mightily so. It will be instructive to see whether
+they are going to ask you to believe that it was uttered by
+Stephen Bellamy as he saw his wife fall. In my opinion only a
+degenerate or a drunken monster would have chosen that
+moment for mirth. Possibly it is Mr. Farr’s contention that
+he was both. Providentially, that is for you and not for him to
+decide.</p>
+
+<p>“The state has still another little matter to explain to your
+satisfaction. According to its theory, Stephen Bellamy and
+Susan Ives arrived at the scene of the crime in a car—in Mr.
+Bellamy’s car. The murderer of Madeleine Bellamy did not
+arrive in a car—or at any rate, no car was visible two minutes
+later in that vicinity. There were no tire tracks in the space
+behind the house, and the state’s own witnesses have proved that
+on both Stephen Bellamy’s visits his car was left squarely in
+front of the cottage door. If someone left an unlighted car
+parked somewhere down the main drive, as the state contends, it
+was not he. His car would have been clearly visible to any
+human being who approached the cottage. It will, as I say,
+be instructive to see how the state disposes of this vital fact.</p>
+
+<p>“I have touched on these matters because I have desired to
+make clear to you two or three factors that are absolutely
+incompatible with any theory that the state has advanced. If they
+are to be disposed of in the most remotely plausible fashion,
+some other theory must be evolved, and I believe that you will
+agree with me that it is rather late in the day to produce
+another theory. I have not touched on them—and I wish to make
+this perfectly clear—on the ground that they are in no way
+necessary to our defense. That defense is not dependent on
+such intriguing details as who took the note, or who laughed,
+or whether the murderer approached his goal on foot or in a
+car. The defense that I advance is simple and straightforward
+and independent of any other circumstances.</p>
+
+<p>“Of all the things that I have said to you, there is only one
+that I hold it essential that you carry in the very core of your
+memory when you leave this room on as solemn an errand as
+falls to the lot of any man. This only: That the sole defense
+that I plead for Stephen Bellamy and Susan Ives is that they
+are innocent—as entirely and unequivocally innocent as any
+man of you in whose hands rests their fate; that this foul and
+brutal murder was against their every wish, hope, or desire;
+that it is to them as ghastly, as incredible, and as mysterious
+as it is to you. That and that only is their defense.</p>
+
+<p>“It is not my task, as you know—as in time Judge Carver
+will tell you—to prove them innocent. It is the state’s to prove
+them guilty. A heavy task they will find it, I most truly
+believe. But I would have you find them something more than not
+guilty. That is the verdict that you may render with your lips,
+but with your hearts I ask you to render another more
+generous and ungrudgingly. ‘Innocent’—a lovely, valiant, and
+fearless word, a word untainted by suspicion or malice. A
+verdict that has no place in any court, but I believe that all who
+hear your lips pronounce ‘Not guilty’ will read it in your eyes.
+I pray that they may.</p>
+
+<p>“I said to you that when you left this room you would be
+bound on the most solemn of all errands. I say to you now that
+when you return you may well be bound on the most beautiful
+one imaginable—you will return in order to give life to two
+who have stood in the shadow of death. Life!</p>
+
+<p>“You cannot give back to Susan Ives something that she has
+lost—a golden faith and carefree security, a confidence in this
+world and all its works. You cannot give back to Stephen
+Bellamy the dead girl who was his treasure and delight, about
+whose bright head clustered all his dreams. You cannot give
+back to them much that made life sweetest, but, gentlemen, you
+can give them life. You can restore to them the good earth, the
+clean air, the laughter of children, the hands of love, starlight
+and firelight and sunlight and moonlight—and brightest of all,
+the light of home shining through windows long dark. All these
+things you hold in your hands. All these things are yours to
+give. Gentlemen, I find it in my heart to envy you greatly that
+privilege, to covet greatly that opportunity.”</p>
+
+<p>He sat down, slowly and heavily, and through the room there
+ran an eager murmur of confidence and ease, a swift slackening
+of tension, a shifting of suspense. And as though in answer to
+it, Farr was on his feet. He stood silent for a moment, his
+hands clasped over the back of the chair before him, his eyes,
+brilliantly inscrutable, sweeping the upturned faces before him.
+When he lifted his voice, the familiar clang was muted:</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour, gentlemen, when my distinguished adversary
+rose to address you an hour or so ago, he assured you that he
+was about to take very little of your time. We would none of
+us grudge him one moment that he has subsequently taken.
+He is waging a grim and desperate battle, and moments and
+even hours seem infinitesimal weapons to interpose between
+those two whose defense is intrusted to him, and who stand
+this day in peril of their lives on the awful brink of eternity
+itself.</p>
+
+<p>“The plea that has made to you is as eloquent and moving a
+one as you will hear in many a long day; it is my misfortune
+that the one that I am about to make must follow hard on its
+heels, and will necessarily be shorn of both eloquence and
+emotion. It will be the shorter for lack of them, but not the better.
+What I lack in oratory I shall endeavour to supply in facts:
+facts too cold, hard, and grim to make pleasant hearing—still,
+facts. It is my unwelcome duty to place them before you; I shall
+not shrink from it. It will not be necessary for me to elaborate
+on them. They will speak for themselves more eloquently than
+I could ever hope to do, and I propose to let them do so.</p>
+
+<p>“Before I marshal them before you, I will dispose as briefly
+as possible of two or three issues that Mr. Lambert has seen
+fit to raise in his speech to you. First, as to the wealth of Mrs.
+Ives. I cannot see that the fact that she is wealthy is in any
+way a vital issue in this case, but Mr. Lambert evidently
+considered it sufficiently important to dwell on at considerable
+length. He managed very skilfully to place before you the
+picture of a modest little farmhouse with roses clambering over a
+cottage gate, presided over by an even more modest chatelaine.
+Very idyllic and utterly and absolutely misleading.</p>
+
+<p>“The little farmhouse is a mansion of some twenty-odd
+rooms, the roses grow in a sunken garden as large as a small
+park; not many cottages boast a swimming pool, a tennis court,
+a bowling green and a garage for five cars—but Mrs. Ives’s
+cottage took these simple improvements as a matter of course.
+Mr. Lambert drew your attention to the fact that if you had
+rung a door-bell the lady herself might have hastened to
+welcome your summons, and, he implies, to welcome you in to see
+how simply she lived.</p>
+
+<p>“I doubt profoundly whether Mrs. Ives ever opened her door
+in her life unless she was intending to pass through it, and I
+doubt even more profoundly whether you would ever have been
+requested to cross the threshold of her home. Mr. Lambert did
+admit that the bell might have been answered by a little maid,
+but he failed to specify which one of the five little maids it
+might have been. He added, in an even more lyric vein, that
+Susan Ives had no more than any of your wives—no more than
+roses in her garden, sunlight in her windows, babies in her
+nursery. I confess myself somewhat taken aback. Are your
+wives the possessors of an acre of roses, a hundred windows to
+let in sunshine, a day and night nursery for your babies to play
+in, with a governess in still a third room to supervise their play?
+If such is the case, you are fortunate indeed.</p>
+
+<p>“As for Stephen Bellamy, Mr. Lambert has assured you
+that any mechanic in the land was as well off as he. Well,
+possibly. The mechanics that I know don’t have maids to help their
+pretty wives, and gardeners to sleep over their pretty garages,
+but perhaps the ones that you know do.</p>
+
+<p>“So much for the wealth of the defendants. I said at the
+outset that it was a matter of no great importance, and in one
+sense it is not; in a deeper sense, it is of the greatest possible
+significance. Not that Susan Ives was, in the strictest sense of
+the word, a wealthy woman, but because of the alchemy that
+had been wrought in her by the sinister magic of what we may
+call the golden touch.</p>
+
+<p>“You all know the legend of Midas, I am sure—the tale of
+that unhappy king who wished that every object that his fingers
+rested on might turn to gold, and whose fingers strayed one
+day to his little daughter’s hair and transformed her into a
+small statue—beautiful, shining, brilliant, but cold and hard
+and inhuman as metal itself. Long ago Curtiss Thorne’s fingers
+must have rested on his little daughter’s hair, and what he made
+of his child then the woman is to-day. The product of pride, of
+power, of privilege, of riches—Susan Ives, proud, powerful,
+privileged, and rich—the golden girl, a charming object of
+luxury in the proper surrounding, a useless encumbrance out
+of them.</p>
+
+<p>“No one knew this better than the golden girl herself—she
+had had bitter cause to know it, remember; and on that fatal
+summer afternoon in June a drunken breath set the pedestal
+rocking beneath her feet. She moved swiftly down from that
+pedestal, with the firm intention of making it steady for all time.
+It is not the gold that we hold in our hands that is a menace and
+a curse, gentlemen—not the shining counters that we may
+change for joy and beauty and health and mercy—it is the cold
+metal that has grown into our hearts. I hold no brief against
+wealth itself. I hold a brief against the product of the Midas
+touch.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Lambert next introduced to you most skilfully a very
+dangerous theme—the theme of the deep personal interest that
+he takes in both defendants, more especially in Susan Ives. The
+sincerity of his devotion to her it is impossible to doubt. I for
+one am very far from doubting it. He loved the little girl
+before the fingers of Midas had rested heavy on her hair; he sees
+before him still only those bright curls of childhood clustering
+about an untarnished brow. Many of you who have daughters
+felt tears sting in your eyes when he told you that he loved her
+as his daughter—I, who have none, felt the sting myself.</p>
+
+<p>“But, gentlemen, I ask you only this: Are you, in all truth
+and fairness, the most unbiased judges of your daughter’s
+characters? Would you credit the word of an archangel straight
+from heaven who told you that your daughter was a murderess,
+if that daughter denied it? Never—never, in God’s world, and
+you know it! If, in your hearts, you say to yourself, ‘He has
+known Susan Ives and loved her for many years; he loves her
+still, so she must be all he thinks,’ then Mr. Lambert’s warm
+eloquence will have accomplished its purpose and my cold logic
+will have failed.</p>
+
+<p>“But I ask you, gentlemen, to use your heads and not your
+hearts. I ask you to discount heavily not Mr. Lambert’s
+sincerity, nor his affection, nor his eloquence, but his judgment and
+his credulity. Platitudes are generally the oldest and
+profoundest of truths; one of the most ancient and most profound of all
+is the axiom that Love is blind.</p>
+
+<p>“So much for two general challenges that it has been my
+duty to meet; the more specific ones of the note, the car, and
+the laugh, I will deal with in their proper places. We are now
+through with generalizations and down to facts.</p>
+
+<p>“These fall into two categories—the first including the
+events leading up to and precipitating the crime, the second
+dealing with the execution of the crime itself.</p>
+
+<p>“I propose to deal with them in their logical sequence. In
+the first category comes the prime factor in this case—motive.
+Mr. Lambert has told you that that is the weakest factor in the
+state’s case; I tell you that it is the strongest. There has never
+come under my observation a more perfect example of an
+overwhelming motive springing from the very foundation of
+motivation—from character itself.</p>
+
+<p>“I want you to get this perfectly straight; it is of the most
+vital importance. There is never any convincing motive for
+murder, in that that implies an explanation that would seem
+plausible to the sane and well-balanced mind. There is
+something in any such mind that recoils in loathing and amazement
+that such a solution of any problem should seem possible. It
+makes no difference whether murder is committed—as it has
+been committed—for a million dollars or for five—in revenge
+for a nagging word or for bestial cruelty—for a quarrel over a
+pair of dice or over a pair of dark eyes—to us it seems equally
+abhorrent, grotesque, and incredible. And so it is. But in some
+few cases we are able to study the deep springs in which this
+monster lurks, and this is one of them.</p>
+
+<p>“I ask you to concentrate now on what you have learned as
+to the character of Susan Ives, from her own lips and from the
+lips of others—the undisputed evidence that has been put before
+you. Forget for a moment that she is small and slight,
+sweet-voiced, clear-eyed—a lady. Look within.</p>
+
+<p>“From the time that we first see her, on the very threshold
+of girlhood, to the time that you have seen her with your own
+eyes here, she has shown a character that is perfectly consistent—a
+character that is as resolute, as lawless, and as ruthless as
+you would find in any hardened criminal in this land. At the
+first touch of constraint or opposition she is metamorphosed
+into a dangerous machine, and woe to the one that stands in its
+way.</p>
+
+<p>“Seven years ago, over the bitter opposition of her adoring
+father, she decided to marry the man who had previously been
+Madeleine Bellamy’s lover, and who had, deservedly or
+undeservedly, somewhat of the reputation of the village scamp
+and ne’er-do-well. Her marriage to him broke her father’s
+heart. Shortly thereafter the old man died, and so bitter,
+relentless, and unforgiving is the heart of this daughter, whom he
+had longed to cherish and protect, that not once since she left
+it in pride and anger has she set foot within the boundaries of
+her childhood’s home.</p>
+
+<p>“She returned, however, at the first opportunity to
+Rosemont; the arrogance that consumed her like a flame made it
+essential that she should be triumphantly reestablished on the
+grounds of her first defeat. And the triumph was a rich and
+intoxicating one. Wealthy, courted, admired, surrounded by a
+chorus of industrious flatterers, no wonder that she became
+obsessed with a sense of her power and importance. She was, in
+fact, undisputed queen of the little domain in which she lived,
+and her throne seemed far more secure than most.</p>
+
+<p>“She was not precisely a benevolent monarch; poor little
+Kathleen Page and Melanie Cordier have testified to that, but
+then they had made the dangerous error of murmuring protests
+at the rule. A little judicious browbeating and starvation
+reduced them to the proper state of subjection, and all was well
+once more. Graciousness and generosity itself to all who bent
+the knee at the proper angle, as her mother-in-law and maid
+have testified, still, it required the merest flicker of
+insubordination to set the steel fingers twitching beneath the velvet
+glove.</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing more than fugitive rebellions had penetrated this
+absolute monarchy, however, up to that bright summer
+afternoon when news reached its sovereign that there was an
+aspirant to the throne—a powerful pretender—an actual usurper,
+with the keys to the castle itself in her hand. The blood of
+Elizabeth of England, of Catherine of Russia, of Lucrezia of
+Italy rose in the veins of this other spoiled child to meet that
+challenge. And, gentlemen, we know too well the fate that befell
+those rash and lovely pretenders of old.</p>
+
+<p>“Enough of metaphor. From the moment that Susan Ives
+knew that the beautiful daughter of the village dressmaker was
+trespassing on her property, Madeleine Bellamy was doomed.</p>
+
+<p>“So much for the motive. Now for the means. We will take
+Susan Ives’s own account of that evening—the account that
+was finally wrung from her when she found, to her terror and
+despair, that the state had in its hands evidence absolutely
+damning and conclusive. The telephone call, Orsini’s vigil at
+the window, the tire tracks, the finger prints—all these
+successive blows brought successive changes in the fabric that
+the defendants were weaving for your benefit.</p>
+
+<p>“It became evident early in the trial that their original tale
+of absolute innocence and ignorance would not bear inspection
+one minute, but they continued industriously to cut their cloth
+to fit our case until they were confronted with two or three
+little marks on the base of a lamp. Then and then only they
+saw the hopelessness of their plight, discarded the whole
+wretched, patched, tattered stuff, and tried frantically to
+replace it by a fabric bearing at least the outer pattern of
+candour. What candour under those circumstances is worth is for
+you to decide.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Lambert assures you that they had both decided to
+stop short of perjury. If the conclusion of Stephen Bellamy’s
+first story on that stand was not in fact black perjury, whatever
+it may have been technically, is again for you to decide. I have
+little doubt of that decision.</p>
+
+<p>“But in Mrs. Ives’s account of that evening’s doings, you
+have the outward and visible sign of truth, if not the inward
+and spiritual state. The story that she finally told you I believe
+to be substantially correct as far as outward events go—up to
+the point where she entered the cottage door. From then on I
+believe it to be the sheerest fabrication. Let us follow it to that
+point.</p>
+
+<p>“From the moment that Elliot Farwell informed her that
+Mimi Bellamy was carrying on an intrigue with her husband,
+her every act is a revelation. It is no pleasant task to inspect
+from then on the conduct of this loyal, gentle, generous and
+controlled spirit, but let us set ourselves to it. She has heard
+that her reign is threatened—what does she do?</p>
+
+<p>“She returns to her home, concealing the rage and terror
+working in her like a poison under a flow of laughter and
+chatter—and cocktails. Susan Ives is a lawless individual,
+gentlemen—the law was made for humbler spirits than hers. In her
+house, in this court, in that darkened cottage, she has shown
+you unhesitatingly her defiance and contempt of any law made
+by man—and of one made by God.</p>
+
+<p>“She is not as yet quite sure that Farwell has told her the
+truth; there is too much arrogance in her to believe that danger
+actually threatens her from that direction—but, under the
+smiling mask, behind the clenched teeth, the poison is working. She
+goes to the hall to bid Farwell good-bye and to warn him not
+to give her knowledge of the intrigue away—perhaps already a
+prophetic sense of her share in this dreadful business is
+formulating. And while she is speaking to him she sees in the mirror
+Melanie Cordier, placing the note in the book. It is the work of
+a minute to step into the study after Melanie has left, abstract
+the note, master the contents, and return to the living room,
+her guests, and Patrick. On the way back, she stopped in the
+hall long enough to eavesdrop and get her cue. With that cue
+as to the prospective poker game in her possession, her course
+was already clear. She went up to Patrick Ives with a lie on
+her lips and a blacker one in her heart, and told him that she
+was going to the movies that night with the Conroys.</p>
+
+<p>“She then followed him again into the hall to spy on him
+while he counted the bonds; she followed him back to the study
+after dinner to spy on him again, to see where he put them; she
+got rid of him with a lie, broke into his desk, confirmed her
+worst suspicions, and decided definitely on a course of action. A
+telephone message to Stephen Bellamy, another lie from the
+foot of the stairs to her unsuspecting husband, and she was on
+her way.</p>
+
+<p>“Before she reached the gate, something went wrong, and
+she returned to the house—possibly for the reason that she
+gave you, possibly for another. At any rate, within a minute
+or so she was at her old task of eavesdropping and spying, and
+a minute or so later than that Patrick Ives was safely locked
+up, well out of the running when it came to protecting the
+foolish girl at the cottage or the maddened one on her way
+there. Susan Ives had successfully disposed of the greatest
+menace to the execution of her scheme. Perhaps fuel was added to
+the flame by what she heard from the room off the day nursery;
+perhaps she heard nothing at all and merely wanted to get
+Patrick out of the way. It is a matter of no great importance.
+She had accomplished her purpose and was on her way again,
+to meet Stephen Bellamy.</p>
+
+<p>“It is the state’s contention that she went to that rendezvous
+with a knife in her pocket and murder in her heart. Patrick
+Ives has told you that the knife that the state put in evidence
+was not out of his possession that evening; it is for you to
+decide whether you believe him or not. But which knife struck
+the blow is of no great importance either. The knife that
+murdered Madeleine Bellamy was, as you have been told, a
+perfectly ordinary knife—such a knife as might be found in
+any of your homes—in the kitchen, in the pantry, in the tool
+chest. From any of these places Susan Ives might have
+procured one, cleansed it and replaced it. We need not let which
+one she actually procured give us great concern.</p>
+
+<p>“Susan Ives herself has touched very briefly on that drive
+with Stephen Bellamy through the quiet, starlit summer night;
+she merely confirms Stephen Bellamy’s account, which is neither
+very coherent nor very convincing. The gist of it was that Sue
+Ives was occupied in proving Mimi’s guilt and he with denying
+it. Some such conversation may well have taken place.</p>
+
+<p>“The part that Stephen Bellamy played in the actual
+commission of this murder is a more enigmatic one than that of
+Susan Ives, if not less sinister. From the outset, it must have
+been perfectly clear to Mrs. Ives’s exceptionally shrewd mind
+that, if she did not want Stephen Bellamy at her heels as an
+avenging husband, she must lure him into the rôle of an
+accomplice. This, by means best known to herself, she accomplished.
+We have it on Stephen Bellamy’s own word that he entered
+that little room with her and left it with her, and we know
+that he sits beside her in this dock because they have elected to
+hang or go free together.</p>
+
+<p>“Now as to what Mr. Lambert is pleased to refer to as their
+alibi, and then I have done.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course, they have neither of them the shred of an alibi.
+Accepting the fact that they left the gas station shortly after
+nine and reached Stephen Bellamy’s at about ten, they would
+have had ample time to reach the Thorne place by the River
+Road, confront the waiting girl with the intercepted note,
+murder her, make good their escape, and return to Bellamy’s by
+ten o’clock. Later, Bellamy returns to the cottage alone to get
+the jewels, in order to give colour to the appearance of robbery
+and to remove any traces of the crime that they may have left
+behind them. Possibly it was then that he brought the lamp
+from the hall and smashed it at the dead girl’s feet. By then
+they had had time to work out a story in the remote possibility
+of their eventual discovery pretty thoroughly. At any rate, he
+took Susan Ives home and returned alone. I repeat, they have
+no alibi.</p>
+
+<p>“ ‘Well, what of the laugh?’ you say. ‘What of the car that
+was not there?’ To which I echo, ‘What of them, indeed?’</p>
+
+<p>“Gentlemen, just stop to think for one minute. Who heard
+that laugh? Who failed to see that automobile? Who fixed the
+hour for this murder at the moment that would come closest to
+establishing an alibi for these two? Why, the brother of Susan
+Ives—the loving, the devoted, the adoring brother, who stood
+up here in this room and told you that he would do anything
+short of murder to protect his sister——”</p>
+
+<p>Lambert was on his feet, his eyes goggling in an ashen
+countenance. “He said nothing of the kind! Your Honour——”</p>
+
+<p>“He did not say that he would not commit murder?”</p>
+
+<p>“He did not say that he would do anything short of it. Of
+all the——”</p>
+
+<p>“Then my memory is at fault,” remarked Mr. Farr blandly.
+“It was certainly my impression that such was the substance of
+his remarks. If it gives offense I withdraw it, and state simply
+that the person who has fixed the hour of the murder for you is
+Mrs. Patrick Ives’s brother, Mr. Douglas Thorne. There is
+not a shred of evidence save his as to the moment at which the
+murder took place—not a shred. You are entirely at liberty to
+draw your own conclusions from that. If you decide that he was
+telling the absolute truth, I will concede even that possibility.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Thorne simply tells you that at about nine-thirty on
+the evening of the nineteenth of June he heard a woman scream
+and a man laugh somewhere in the neighbourhood of the
+gardener’s cottage at Orchards. He adds that at the time he
+attached no particular importance to it, as he thought that it may
+have been young people sky-larking in the neighbourhood—and
+he may have been perfectly right. It no more establishes the
+hour of Madeleine Bellamy’s murder than it establishes the
+hour of the deluge.</p>
+
+<p>“It is, in fact, perfectly possible that the murder took place
+after ten o’clock, after the visit to the Bellamy home and the
+alleged search along the road to the Conroys. Only one thing
+is certain: If it was nine-thirty when Mr. Thorne walked up
+those cottage steps, and if at that time there was no car in
+sight, then the hour of the murder was not nine-thirty. It may
+have been before that hour, it may have been after it. It was not
+then.</p>
+
+<p>“So much for Mr. Lambert’s trump cards, the laugh and the
+car. There remains the theft of the note, which he claims Mrs.
+Ives had no interest in denying. Of course she had every
+interest in denying it. If she admitted that she had found the
+note, then she would be forced to admit to the jury that she
+knew positively that Mimi was waiting in the cottage, and
+that did not fit in with her story at all. So she simply denies
+that she took it. And there goes their last trump.</p>
+
+<p>“Stripped of glamour, of emotion, of eloquence, it is the
+barest, the simplest, the most appallingly obvious of cases, you
+see. There is not one single link in the chain missing—not one.</p>
+
+<p>“Unless someone came to you here and said, ‘I saw the knife
+in Susan Ives’s hand, I saw it rise, I saw it fall, I heard the
+crash of that girl’s body and saw the white lace of her frock
+turn red’—unless you heard that with your own ears, you could
+not have a clearer picture of what happened in that room. Not
+once in a thousand murder cases is there an eyewitness to the
+crime. Not once in five hundred is there forged so strong a
+chain of evidence as now lies before you.</p>
+
+<p>“There was only one person in all the world to whom the
+death of Madeleine Bellamy was a vital, urgent, and imperative
+necessity. The woman to whom it was all of this—and more,
+far more, since words are poor substitutes for passions—has told
+you with her own lips that at ten o’clock on that night she
+stood over the body of that slain girl and saw her eyes wide in
+the dreadful and unseeing stare of death. When Susan Ives told
+you that, she told you the truth; and she told you the truth
+again when she said that when you knew that she had stood
+there, she did not believe that it would be possible for you to
+credit that the one fact had no connection with the other. Nor
+do I believe it, gentlemen—nor do I believe it.</p>
+
+<p>“By her side, in that room, stood Stephen Bellamy. By his
+own confession it was he who closed the eyes of that slain girl,
+he who touched her hand. By his own confession he has told
+you that he did not believe it possible that you would credit that
+he stood there at that time and yet had no knowledge of her
+death. Nor do I believe it, gentlemen—nor do I believe it.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Lambert has told you that to him has fallen the most
+solemn task that can fall to the lot of any man—that of
+pleading for the gift of human life. There is a still more solemn
+task, I believe, and that task has fallen to me. I must ask you
+not for life but for death.</p>
+
+<p>“The law does not exact the penalty of a life for a life in
+the spirit of vengeance or of malice. It asks it because the flame
+of human life is so sacred a thing that it is business of the law
+to see that no hand, however powerful, shall be blasphemously
+lifted to extinguish that flame. It is in order that your wives
+and daughters and sisters may sleep sweet and safe at night
+that I stand before you now and tell you that because they
+lifted that hand, the lives of Stephen Bellamy and Susan Ives
+are forfeit.</p>
+
+<p>“These two believed that behind the bulwarks of power, of
+privilege, of wealth, and of position, they were safe. They were
+not safe; they have discovered that. And if those barriers can
+protect them now, if still behind them they can find shelter and
+security and a wall to shield them as they creep back to their
+ruined hearthstones, then I say to you that the majesty of the
+law is a mockery and the sacredness of human life is a
+mockery, and the death penalty in this great state is a mockery.</p>
+
+<p>“There was never in this state a more wicked, brutal, and
+cold-blooded murder than that of Madeleine Bellamy. For
+Susan Ives and Stephen Bellamy, the two who now stand
+before you accused of that murder, I ask, with all solemnity and
+fully aware of the tragic duty that I impose on each one of you,
+the verdict of guilty of murder in the first degree. If you can
+find it in your hearts, in your souls, or your consciences to
+render any other verdict, you are more fortunate than I believe
+you to be.”</p>
+
+<p>In the hushed silence that followed his voice, all eyes turned
+to the twelve who sat there unmoving, their drawn, pale faces,
+tired-eyed and tight-lipped, turned toward the merciless flame
+that burned behind the prosecutor’s white face.</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl asked in a desolate small voice that
+sounded very far away, “Is it all over now? Are they going
+now?”</p>
+
+<p>“No—wait a moment; there’s the judge’s charge. Here,
+what’s Lambert doing?”</p>
+
+<p>He was on his feet, swaying a little, his voice barely audible.</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour, a note has been handed to me this moment.
+It is written on the card of the principal of the Eastern High
+School, Mr. Randolph Phipps.”</p>
+
+<p>“What are the contents of this note?”</p>
+
+<p>Lambert settled his glasses on his nose with a shaken hand.
+“It says—it says:</p>
+
+<blockquote class="letter">
+
+<p class="salutation">“My dear Mr. Lambert:</p>
+
+<p>“Before this case goes to the jury, I consider it my duty to lay before
+them some knowledge of the most vital importance that is my possession,
+and that for personal reasons I have withheld up to the present
+time, in the hope that events would render it unnecessary for me to
+take the stand. Such has unfortunately not been the case, and I
+therefore put myself at your disposal. Will you tell me what my next step
+should be? The facts are such as make it imperative that I should
+be permitted to speak.</p>
+
+<p class="signature">“Randolph Phipps.”</p>
+
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Judge Carver said slowly, “May I see the note?” Lambert
+handed it up in those shaking fingers. “Thank you. A most
+extraordinary performance,” commented the judge dispassionately.
+After a moment he said more dispassionately still:</p>
+
+<p>“The Court was about to adjourn in any case until
+to-morrow morning. It does not care to deliver its charge to the
+jury at this late hour of the day, and we will therefore
+convene again at ten to-morrow. In the meantime the Court will
+take the note under advisement. See that Mr. Phipps is present
+in the morning. Court is dismissed.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t believe that I’ll be here in the morning,” said the
+red-headed girl in that same small monotone.</p>
+
+<p>“Not be here?” The reporter’s voice was a howl of
+incredulity. “Not be here, you little idiot? Did you hear what
+Lambert read off that card?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t think that I’ll live till morning,” said the red-headed
+girl.</p>
+
+<p>The seventh day of the Bellamy trial was over.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch08">
+
+<h2>Chapter VIII</h2>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl had not realized how tired she was
+until she heard Ben Potts’s voice. He stood there as
+straight as ever, but where were the clear bugle tones
+that summoned the good burghers of Redfield morning after
+morning? A faint, a lamentable, echo of his impressive “Hear
+ye! Hear ye!” rang out feebly, and the red-headed girl slumped
+back dispiritedly in her chair, consumed with fatigue as with
+a fever.</p>
+
+<p>“Sleep well?” inquired the reporter with amiable anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl turned on him eyes heavy with scorn.
+“Sleep?” she repeated acidly. “What’s that?”</p>
+
+<p>Judge Carver looked as weary as Ben Potts sounded, and
+the indefatigable Mr. Farr looked blanched and bitten to the
+bone with something deeper than fatigue. Only Mr. Lambert
+looked haler and heartier than he had for several interminable
+days; and the faces of Stephen Bellamy and Susan Ives were
+as pale, as controlled, and as tranquil as ever.</p>
+
+<p>Judge Carver let his gavel fall heavily. “The Court has
+given careful consideration as to the advisability of admitting
+the evidence in question last night, and has decided that it may
+be admitted. Mr. Lambert!” Mr. Lambert bounded joyfully
+forward. “Is the Court correct in understanding that Mr.
+Phipps is your witness?”</p>
+
+<p>“Quite correct, Your Honour.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let him be called.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Randolph Phipps!”</p>
+
+<p>The principal of Eastern High School was a tall man; there
+was dignity in the way he held his head and moved his long,
+loose limbs, but all the dignity in the world could not still
+the nervous tremor of his hands or school the too sensitive
+mouth to rigidity. Under straight, heavy brows, the eyes of
+a dreamer startled from deep sleep looked out in amazement
+at a strange world; the sweep of dark hair above the wide brow
+came perilously close to being Byronic; only the height of his
+cheek bones and the width of his mouth saved him from
+suggesting a matinée idol of some previous era. He might have
+been thirty-five, or forty, or forty-five. His eyes were eighteen.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Phipps, it is the understanding of this court that you
+have a communication to make of peculiar importance. You
+understand that in making that statement you will, of course,
+be subject to the usual course of direct and cross-examination?”</p>
+
+<p>“I understand that—yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well. You may proceed with the examination, Mr.
+Lambert.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Phipps, where were you on the night of the nineteenth
+of June?”</p>
+
+<p>“On the night of the nineteenth of June,” said Mr. Phipps,
+in the clear, carrying voice of one not unaccustomed to public
+speaking, “I spent about three hours on the Thorne estate
+at Orchards. Some things occurred during that time that I feel
+it my duty to make known to the jury in this case.”</p>
+
+<p>“What were you doing on the Thorne place?”</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose that I was doing what is technically known as
+trespassing. It did not occur to me at the time that it was a
+very serious offense, as I knew the place to be uninhabited—still,
+I suppose that I was perfectly aware that I had no
+business there.”</p>
+
+<p>“You had no especial purpose in going there?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes; I went there because I had selected it as a
+pleasant place for a picnic supper.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were alone?”</p>
+
+<p>“No—no, I was not alone.” Mr. Phipps suddenly looked
+forty-five and very tired.</p>
+
+<p>“Other people were accompanying you on this—this
+excursion?”</p>
+
+<p>“One other person.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who was this other person?”</p>
+
+<p>“A friend of mine—a young lady.”</p>
+
+<p>“What was the name of this young woman?”</p>
+
+<p>“Is it necessary to give her name? I hope—I hope with all
+my heart—that that will not be necessary.” The low, urgent,
+unhappy voice stumbled in its intensity. “My companion was
+quite a young girl. We both realize now that we committed a
+grave indiscretion, but I shall never forgive myself if my
+criminal stupidity has involved her.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am afraid that we shall have to have her name.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am a married man,” said Mr. Phipps, in a clear voice that
+did not stumble. “I am placing this information before the
+Court at no small sacrifice to myself. It seems to me to place
+too heavy a penalty on my decision to come forward at this
+moment if you ask me to involve another by so doing. The
+girl who was with me that evening was one of my pupils;
+she is at present engaged to a young man to whom she is entirely
+devoted; publicity of the type that this means is in every way
+abhorrent to her. I request most urgently that she shall not be
+exposed to it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Phipps,” said Judge Carver gravely, “you have been
+permitted to take the stand at your own request. It is highly
+desirable that any information, of the importance that you
+have implied that in your possession to be, should be as fully
+corroborated as possible. It is therefore essential that we should
+have the name of this young woman.”</p>
+
+<p>“Her name is Sally Dunne,” said Mr. Phipps.</p>
+
+<p>“Is she also prepared to take the stand?”</p>
+
+<p>“She is prepared to do whatever is essential to prevent a
+miscarriage of justice. She is naturally extremely reluctant to
+take the stand.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is she in court?”</p>
+
+<p>“She is.”</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Dunne will be good enough not to leave the courtroom
+without the Court’s permission. You may proceed, Mr. Phipps.”</p>
+
+<p>“We arrived at Orchards at a little after eight,” said Mr.
+Phipps. “Miss Dunne took the half-past-seven bus from
+Rosemont, left it a short distance beyond Orchards, and walked
+back to the spot where I had arranged to meet her, just inside
+the gate. We did not arrive together, as I was apprehensive
+that it might cause a certain amount of gossip if we were
+seen together.”</p>
+
+<p>“How had you come to choose Orchards, Mr. Phipps?”</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Dunne had on several occasions commented on the
+beauty of the place and expressed a desire to see it more
+thoroughly, and it was in order to gratify that desire that the
+party was planned. As I say, we met at the gate and walked on
+up the drive past the lodge and the little driveway that leads
+to the gardener’s cottage to a small summerhouse, about five
+hundred feet beyond the cottage itself. It contained a little
+furniture—a table and some chairs and benches—and it was
+there that we decided to have our supper. Miss Dunne had
+brought a luncheon box with her containing fruit and
+sandwiches, and we spread it on the table and began to eat. Neither
+of us was particularly hungry, however, and we decided to keep
+what remained of the food—about half the contents of the
+box, I think—in case we wanted it later, and to do some
+reading before it got too dark to see. I had brought with me the
+<i>Idylls of the King</i>, with the intention of reading it aloud.”</p>
+
+<p>“The book is of no importance, Mr. Phipps.”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” said Mr. Phipps, in a tone of slight surprise. “No, I
+suppose not. You are probably quite right. Well, in any case,
+we read for quite a while, until it began to get too dark to see,
+and after that we sat there conversing.”</p>
+
+<p>The fluent voice with its slightly meticulous pronunciation
+paused, and Lambert moved impatiently. “And then, Mr.
+Phipps?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. I was trying to recollect precisely what it was that
+caused us to move from the summerhouse. I think that it was
+Miss Dunne who suggested that it was rather close and stuffy
+there, because of the fact that the structure was smothered in
+vines; she asked if there wasn’t somewhere cooler that we could
+go to sit. I said: ‘There’s the gardener’s cottage. We might
+try the veranda there.’ You could just see the roof of it through
+the trees. I pointed it out to her, and we started——”</p>
+
+<p>“You were familiar with the layout of the estate?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, quite. That was one of the principal reasons why we
+had gone there. I had once done some tutoring in Latin and
+physics with Mr. Thorne’s younger son Charles—the one who
+was killed in the war. We had been in the habit of using the
+summerhouse, which was his old playhouse, as a schoolroom.”</p>
+
+<p>“That was some time ago?”</p>
+
+<p>“About fifteen years ago—sixteen perhaps. I had just
+graduated from college myself, and Charles Thorne was going to
+Princeton that fall.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you still remembered your way about?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, perfectly. I was about to say that we did not approach
+it from the main drive, but cut across the lawns, pushed through
+the shrubbery at the back and came up to it from the rear. We
+had just reached the little dirt drive back of the cottage, and
+were perhaps a hundred feet away from the house itself, when
+we heard voices, and Miss Dunne exclaimed: ‘There’s someone
+in the cottage. Look, the side window is lighted.’ I was
+considerably startled, as I had made inquiries about the gardener
+and knew that he was in Italy.</p>
+
+<p>“I stood still for a moment, debating what to do next, when
+one of the voices in the cottage was suddenly raised, and a
+woman said quite clearly, ‘You wouldn’t dare to touch me—you
+wouldn’t dare!’ Someone laughed and there was a little
+scuffling sound, and a second or so after that a scream—a short,
+sharp scream—and the sound of something falling with quite
+a clatter, as though a chair or a table had been overturned.</p>
+
+<p>“I was in rather a nervous and overwrought state of mind
+myself that evening, and before I thought what I was doing
+I laughed, quite loudly. Miss Dunne whispered, ‘Be careful!
+They’ll hear you.’ Just as she spoke, the light went out in the
+cottage and I said, ‘Well, Sally, evidently we aren’t the only
+indiscreet people around here this evening. I’d better get you
+out of this.’</p>
+
+<p>“Just as I was speaking I heard steps on the main driveway
+and the sound of someone whistling. The whistling kept
+coming closer every second, and I whispered, ‘Someone’s coming in
+here. We’d better stand back in those bushes by the house.’
+There were some very tall lilacs at the side of the house under
+the windows, and we tiptoed over and pushed back into them.
+After a minute or so, we heard someone go up the steps, and
+then a bell rang inside the house. There wasn’t any sound at all
+for a minute; then we could hear the steps coming down the
+porch stairs again, and a moment later heard them on the
+gravel, and a moment later still they had died away.</p>
+
+<p>“I said, ‘That was a close call—too many people around here
+entirely. Let’s make it two less.’ We tiptoed out past the cottage
+to the main road and started back toward the lodge gates,
+walking along the grass beside the road in order not to make any
+noise. We were almost back to the gates when Miss Dunne
+stopped me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you know what time it was, Mr. Phipps?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am not sure of the time. I looked at my watch last when
+it began to get too dark to read—shortly before nine. We did
+not start for the cottage until a few minutes later, and it is
+my impression that it must have been between quarter to ten
+and ten. We had been walking very slowly, but even at that
+pace it should not take more than twenty minutes.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was dark then?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes; it had been quite dark for some time, though it was
+possible to distinguish the outline of objects. It was a very
+beautiful starlight night.”</p>
+
+<p>“Quite so. What caused Miss Dunne to stop you?”</p>
+
+<p>“She exclaimed suddenly, ‘Oh, good heavens, I haven’t got
+my lunch box! I must have left it in the bushes by the cottage.’
+I said, ‘Perhaps you left it in the summerhouse,’ but she was
+quite sure that she hadn’t, as she remembered distinctly thinking
+just before we reached the cottage that it was a nuisance
+lugging it about. She was very much worried, as it had her initial
+stenciled on it in rather a distinctive way, and she was afraid
+that someone that she knew might possibly find it and recognize
+it, and that if they returned it, her parents might learn that she
+had been at Orchards that night.”</p>
+
+<p>“Her parents were not aware of this expedition?”</p>
+
+<p>“They were not, sir. They had both gone to New Hampshire
+to attend the funeral of Mr. Dunne’s mother.”</p>
+
+<p>“Proceed, Mr. Phipps.”</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Dunne seemed so upset over the loss of the box that
+I finally agreed to go back with her to look for it, though there
+seemed to me a very slight chance of anyone identifying it,
+and I did not particularly care to risk arousing anyone who still
+might be in the cottage. I had a flashlight, however, and we
+decided to make a hurried search as quietly as possible; so we
+started back, retracing our steps and keeping a sharp lookout
+for the box.</p>
+
+<p>“When we got to the dirt cut-off leading to the cottage from
+the main driveway, we took it and approached as quietly as
+possible, standing for a moment just at the foot of the steps
+where the lilac bushes began and listening to see whether we
+could hear anything within. Miss Dunne said, ‘There’s not a
+sound, and no light either. I don’t believe there’s a soul around.’</p>
+
+<p>“I said, ‘Someone has closed the windows and pulled down
+the shades in this front room. It was open when we were here
+before.’ Sally said, ‘Well, never mind—let’s look quickly and
+get away from here. I think it’s a horrid place.’ I turned on
+the flashlight and said, ‘We were much farther back than this.’
+She said, ‘Yes; we were beyond these windows. Look! what’s
+this?’</p>
+
+<p>“Something was glittering in the grass at the side of the steps,
+and I bent down and picked it up. It was a small object of
+silver and black enamel. I turned the light on it, and Miss
+Dunne said, ‘It’s one of those cigarette lighters. Look, there
+is something written on it. It says, <i>Elliot from Mimi,
+Christmas</i>.’</p>
+
+<p>“Just then I heard a sound that made me look up. I said,
+‘Listen, that’s a car.’ And I no more than had the words out of
+my mouth when I saw its headlights coming around the corner
+of the cut-off. I whispered, ‘Stand still—don’t move!’ because
+I could see that the headlights wouldn’t catch us, as we were
+standing far back from the road; but Miss Dunne had already
+pushed back into the shrubbery about the house. I stood
+stock-still, staring at the car, which had drawn up at the steps. It
+was a small car—a runabout, I think you call it——”</p>
+
+<p>“Could you identify the make, Mr. Phipps?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir; I am not familiar with automobiles. Just a small
+dark, ordinary-looking car. Two people got out of it—a man
+and a woman. They stood there for a moment on the steps, and
+when I saw who they were I came very close to letting out an
+exclamation of amazement. They went up the steps toward the
+front door.”</p>
+
+<p>“Were they conversing?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but in low voices. I couldn’t hear anything until he
+said quite clearly, ‘No, it’s open—that’s queer.’ They went in,
+and I whispered to Miss Dunne, ‘Do you know who that was?
+That was Stephen Bellamy, with Mrs. Patrick Ives.’ Just
+as I spoke I saw a light go on in the hall, and a second or so
+later it disappeared and one sprang up behind the parlour
+shades. I was just starting over toward Miss Dunne when there
+was a crash from the parlour—a metallic kind of a crash, like
+breaking glass, and the light went out. I whispered, ‘Come on
+Sally; I’m going to get out of this!’ She started to come toward
+me, and someone inside screamed—a most appalling sound, as
+though the person were in mortal terror. I assure you that it
+froze me to the spot, though it was only the briefest interval
+before I again heard voices on the porch.”</p>
+
+<p>“Could you see the speakers, Mr. Phipps?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; not until they were getting into the car. I was at this
+time standing just around the corner of the house, and so could
+not see the porch.”</p>
+
+<p>“Could you distinguish what they were saying?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not at first; they were both speaking together, and it was
+very confusing. It wasn’t until they appeared again in the circle
+of the automobile lights that I actually distinguished anything
+more than a few fragmentary words. Mr. Bellamy had his
+hand on Mrs. Ives’s wrist and he was saying——”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Farr was on his feet, but much of the tiger had gone out
+of his spring. “Does the Court hold that what this witness
+claims that he heard one person say to another person is
+admissible evidence?”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course it is admissible evidence!” Lambert’s voice was
+frantic with anxiety. “Words spoken on the scene of the crime,
+within a few minutes of the crime——What about the rule of
+<i>res gestæ</i>?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Farr made an unpleasant little noise. “A few minutes?
+That’s what you call three quarters of an hour? When
+ejaculations made within two minutes have been ruled out after <i>res
+gestæ</i> has been invoked?”</p>
+
+<p>“It has been interpreted to admit whole sentences at a
+much——”</p>
+
+<p>“Gentlemen”—Judge Carver’s gavel fell with an imperious
+crash—“you will be good enough to address the Court. Am I
+correct in understanding that what you desire is a ruling on
+the admissibility of this evidence, Mr. Farr?”</p>
+
+<p>“That is all that I have requested, Your Honour.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well. In view of the gravity of this situation and the
+very unusual character of the testimony, the Court desires to
+show as great a latitude as possible in respect to this evidence. It
+therefore rules that it may be admitted. Is there any objection?”</p>
+
+<p>“No objection,” said Mr. Farr, with commendable
+promptness, rallying a voice that sounded curiously flat. “It has been
+the object—and the sole object—of the state throughout this
+case to get at the truth. It is entirely willing to waive
+technicalities wherever possible in order that that end may be
+obtained. . . . No objection.”</p>
+
+<p>“You may proceed, Mr. Phipps.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Bellamy was saying, ‘It makes no difference how
+innocent we are. If it were ever known that we were in that room
+tonight, you couldn’t get one person in the world to believe that
+we weren’t guilty, much less twelve. I’ve got to get you home.
+Get into the car.’ And they got into the car and drove off.”</p>
+
+<p>“And then, Mr. Phipps?”</p>
+
+<p>“And then, sir, I said to Miss Dunne, ‘Sally, that sounds
+like the voice of prophecy to me. If no one would believe that
+they were innocent, no one would believe that we are. Never
+mind the lunch box; I’m going to get you home too.’ ”</p>
+
+<p>“You were aware that a murder had been committed?”</p>
+
+<p>“A murder? Oh, not for one moment!” The quiet voice was
+suddenly vehement in its protest. “Not for one single moment!
+I thought simply that for some inexplicable reason Mr. Bellamy
+and Mrs. Ives had been almost suicidally indiscreet and had
+fortunately become aware of it at the last moment. It brought
+my own most culpable indiscretion all too vividly home to me,
+and I therefore proceeded to escort Miss Dunne back to her
+home, where I left her.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes—exactly. Now, Mr. Phipps, just one or two questions
+more. On your first visit to the cottage, when you heard the
+woman’s voice cry, ‘Don’t dare to touch me,’ both the front
+and the rear of the cottage were under your observation, were
+they not?”</p>
+
+<p>“At different times—yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Would it have been possible for an automobile to be at any
+spot near the cottage while you were there without your
+attention being drawn to the fact?”</p>
+
+<p>“It would have been absolutely impossible.”</p>
+
+<p>“It could not have stood there without your seeing it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not possibly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nor have left without your hearing it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not possibly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you hear or see such a car on that visit to the cottage,
+Mr. Phipps?”</p>
+
+<p>“I saw no car and heard none.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, Mr. Phipps; that will be all.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, not quite all,” said Mr. Farr gently. Mr. Phipps
+shifted in his chair, his eyes under their dark brows luminous
+with apprehension. “Mr. Phipps, at what time did you reach
+your home on the night of the nineteenth of June?”</p>
+
+<p>“I did not return to my home. It was closed, as my family—my
+wife and my two little girls—were staying at a little place
+on the Jersey coast called Blue Bay. I had taken a room at the
+Y. M. C. A.”</p>
+
+<p>“At what time did you return to the Y. M. C. A.?”</p>
+
+<p>“I did not return there,” said Mr. Phipps, in a voice so low
+that it was barely audible.</p>
+
+<p>“You did not return to the Y. M. C. A.?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. By the time that I had left Miss Dunne at her home
+I decided that it was too late to return to the Y. M. C. A.
+without rendering myself extremely conspicuous, and as I was
+not in the least sleepy, I decided that I would take a good walk,
+get a bite to eat at one of the hand-out places in the vicinity
+of the station, and catch the first train—the four-forty-five—to
+New York, where I could get a boat to Blue Bay and spend
+Sunday with my family.”</p>
+
+<p>“You mean that you did not intend to go to bed at all?”</p>
+
+<p>“I did not.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you carried out this plan?”</p>
+
+<p>“I did.”</p>
+
+<p>“What time did you leave Miss Dunne at her home, Mr.
+Phipps?”</p>
+
+<p>“At about quarter to one.”</p>
+
+<p>“What time did you start from the Orchards for home?”</p>
+
+<p>“We started from the lodge gates at a little before eleven.”</p>
+
+<p>“How far is it from there to Miss Dunne’s home in
+Rosemont?”</p>
+
+<p>“Just short of four miles.”</p>
+
+<p>“It took you an hour and three-quarters to traverse four
+miles?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. The last bus from Perrytown to Rosemont goes by
+Orchards at about quarter to eleven. We missed it by five
+or six minutes and were obliged to walk.”</p>
+
+<p>“It took you over an hour and three quarters to walk less
+than four miles?”</p>
+
+<p>“We walked slowly,” said Mr. Phipps.</p>
+
+<p>“So it would seem. Now, did anyone see you leave Miss
+Dunne at her door, Mr. Phipps?”</p>
+
+<p>“No one.”</p>
+
+<p>“You simply said good-night and left her there?”</p>
+
+<p>“I said good-night,” said Mr. Phipps, “and left her at her
+door.”</p>
+
+<p>“You did not go inside at all?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Phipps met the suave challenge with unflinching eyes.
+“I did not set my foot inside her house that night.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour,” asked Mr. Lambert, in a voice shaken with
+righteous wrath, “may I ask where these questions are
+leading?”</p>
+
+<p>“The Court was about to ask the same thing. . . . Well,
+Mr. Farr?”</p>
+
+<p>“I respectfully submit that it is highly essential to test the
+accuracy of Mr. Phipps’ memory as to the rest of the events on
+the night which he apparently remembers in such vivid detail,”
+said Mr. Farr smoothly. “And I assume that he is open to as
+rigorous an inspection as to credibility as the defense has seen
+fit to lavish on the state’s various witnesses. If I am in error,
+Your Honour will correct me.”</p>
+
+<p>“The Court wishes to hamper you as little as possible,” said
+Judge Carver wearily. “But it fails to see what is to be gained
+by pressing the question further.”</p>
+
+<p>“I yield to Your Honour’s judgment. Did anyone that you
+know see you after you left Miss Dunne that night, Mr.
+Phipps?”</p>
+
+<p>“Unfortunately, no,” said Mr. Phipps, in that low, painful
+voice. “I saw no one until I reached my wife in Blue Bay at
+about eleven o’clock the following morning.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you tell your wife of the events of the night?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. I told my wife that I had spent the night in New York
+with an old classmate and gone to the theatre.”</p>
+
+<p>“That was not the truth, was it, Mr. Phipps?” inquired
+the prosecutor regretfully.</p>
+
+<p>“That was a falsehood,” said Mr. Phipps, his eyes on his
+locked hands.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Farr waited a moment to permit this indubitable fact to
+sink in. When he spoke again, his voice was brisker than it
+had been in some time. “How did you recognize Mr. Bellamy
+and Mrs. Ives, Mr. Phipps?”</p>
+
+<p>“They were standing in the circle of light cast by their
+headlights. I could see them very distinctly.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I mean where had you seen them before.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I had seen them quite frequently before. Mrs. Ives I
+saw often when she was Miss Thorne and I was tutoring at
+Orchards, and I had seen her several times since as well.
+Indeed, I had been in her own house on two occasions in
+regard to some welfare work that the school was backing.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were aware then that Mrs. Ives was a very wealthy
+woman?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Phipps looked at him wonderingly. “Aware? I knew
+of course that——”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour, I object to that question as totally
+improper.”</p>
+
+<p>“Objection sustained,” said Judge Carver, eyeing the
+prosecutor with some austerity.</p>
+
+<p>“And as to Mr. Bellamy?” inquired that gentleman blandly.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Bellamy was a director of our school board,” said Mr.
+Phipps. “I was in the habit of seeing him almost weekly, so
+I naturally recognized him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you knew Mr. Bellamy, too, did you?” Mr. Farr’s
+voice was encouragement itself.</p>
+
+<p>“I knew him—not intimately, you understand, but well
+enough to admire him as deeply as did all who came in
+contact with him.”</p>
+
+<p>“He was deeply admired by all the members of the board?”</p>
+
+<p>“Undoubtedly.”</p>
+
+<p>“It will do you no damage with the board, then, when they
+learn of your testimony in this case?”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour——”</p>
+
+<p>“Please,” said Mr. Phipps quietly, “I should like to answer
+that. Whether it would do me damage or not is slightly
+academic, as I have already handed in my resignation as principal
+of the Eastern High School. I do not intend to return to
+Rosemont; my wife, my children, and I are leaving for Ohio
+to-morrow.”</p>
+
+<p>“You have resigned your position? When?”</p>
+
+<p>“Last night. My wife agreed with me that my usefulness
+here would probably be seriously impaired after I had testified.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are a wealthy man, Mr. Phipps?”</p>
+
+<p>“On the contrary, I am a poor man.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yet you are able to resign your position and go West as a
+man of independent means?”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you asking me whether I have been bribed, Mr. Farr?”
+asked Mr. Phipps gravely.</p>
+
+<p>“I am asking you nothing of the kind. I am simply——”</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honour! Your Honour!”</p>
+
+<p>“Because if you are,” continued Mr. Phipps clearly over the
+imperious thunder of the gavel, “I should like to ask you
+what sum you yourself would consider sufficient to reimburse
+you for the loss of your private happiness, your personal
+reputation, and your public career?”</p>
+
+<p>“I ask that that reply be stricken from the record, Your
+Honour!”</p>
+
+<p>The white savagery of Mr. Farr’s face was not an
+agreeable sight.</p>
+
+<p>“Both your question and the witness’s reply may be so
+stricken,” said Judge Carver sternly. “They were equally
+improper. You may proceed, Mr. Farr.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Farr, by a truly Herculean effort, managed to reduce
+both voice and countenance to a semblance better suited to so
+ardent a seeker for truth. “You wish us to believe then, Mr.
+Phipps, that on the night of the nineteenth of June, for the
+first time in over ten years, you went to the gardener’s cottage
+at Orchards at the precise moment that enabled you to
+recognize Susan Ives and Stephen Bellamy standing in the circle of
+their automobile lights?”</p>
+
+<p>“That is exactly what I wish you to believe,” said Mr.
+Phipps steadily. “It is the truth.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Farr bestowed on him a long look in which irony,
+skepticism, and contemptuous pity were neatly blended. “No
+further questions,” he said briefly. “Call Miss Dunne.”</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Sally Dunne!”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Sally Dunne came quickly, so tall, so brave, so young
+and pale in her blue serge dress with its neat little white collar
+and cuffs, that more than one person in the dark courtroom
+caught themselves wondering with a catch at the heart how
+long it had been since she had coiled those smooth brown braids
+over her ears and smoothed the hair ribbons out for the last
+time. She was not pretty. She had a sad little heart-shaped
+face and widely spaced hazel eyes, candid and trustful. These
+she turned on Mr. Lambert, and steadied her lips, which were
+trembling.</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Dunne, I just want you to tell us one or two things.
+You heard Mr. Phipps’ testimony?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir.” A child’s voice, clear as water, troubled and
+innocent.</p>
+
+<p>“You were with him on the night of June nineteenth from
+eight until one or thereabouts?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was his testimony as to what happened accurate?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, indeed, sir. Mr. Phipps,” said the little voice
+proudly, “has a very wonderful memory.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were with him on his first visit to the cottage?”</p>
+
+<p>“I was with him every minute of the evening.”</p>
+
+<p>“You saw no car near the cottage?”</p>
+
+<p>“There wasn’t any car there,” said Miss Dunne.</p>
+
+<p>“You saw Mr. Bellamy and Mrs. Ives on your second
+visit to the cottage, some time after ten o’clock?”</p>
+
+<p>“Just when they came out,” said Miss Dunne conscientiously.
+“I didn’t see their faces when they went in.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you hear them speak?”</p>
+
+<p>“I heard Mr. Bellamy say, ‘Sue, no matter how innocent
+we are, we’ll never get one person to believe that we aren’t
+guilty if they know that we were in that room, much less
+twelve. I’ve got to get you home.’ ”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. Are you engaged to be married, Miss Dunne?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know,” said Miss Dunne simply. “I was engaged,
+but my—my fiancé didn’t want me to testify in this case. You
+see, he’s studying for the ministry. I think perhaps that he
+doesn’t consider that he’s engaged any longer.”</p>
+
+<p>“Were you yourself anxious to testify?”</p>
+
+<p>“I was anxious to do what Mr. Phipps thought was right
+for us to do,” said Miss Dunne. “But I am afraid that I was
+not very brave about wanting to testify.”</p>
+
+<p>“Were you in the habit of going on these—these picnic
+expeditions with Mr. Phipps?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no, sir. We had taken only two or three quite short
+little walks—after school, you know. He was helping me with
+my English literature because I wanted to be a writer. The
+party that night was a farewell party.”</p>
+
+<p>“A farewell party?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. School had closed on Friday, and we—Mr. Phipps
+thought that perhaps it would be better if we didn’t see each
+other any more. It was my fault that we went to Orchards
+that night. It was all my fault,” explained Miss Dunne
+carefully in her small, clear voice.</p>
+
+<p>“Your fault?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. You see, Mr. Phipps thought that I was very
+romantic indeed, and that I was getting too fond of him, so that
+we had better stop seeing each other. I am very romantic,”
+said Sally Dunne gravely, “and I was getting too fond of
+him.”</p>
+
+<p>“How often have you seen Mr. Phipps since that evening,
+Miss Dunne?”</p>
+
+<p>“Twice; once on the Tuesday following the—the murder—only
+for about five minutes in the park. I begged him not to
+say anything about our having been there unless it was
+absolutely necessary. And again last night when he said that it
+was necessary.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, exactly. Thank you, Miss Dunne; that will be all.
+Cross-examine.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was not the state that is responsible for the pitiless
+publicity to which this unfortunate young girl has been exposed,”
+said Mr. Farr, looking so virtuous that one sought
+apprehensively for the halo. “And it is not the state that proposes to
+prolong it. I ask no question.”</p>
+
+<p>Judge Carver said, in answer to the look of blank
+bewilderment in the clear eyes, “That will be all. You may step down,
+Miss Dunne.”</p>
+
+<hr>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl, who thought that nothing in the
+world could surprise her any more, felt herself engulfed in
+amazement.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, but what did he let her go for?”</p>
+
+<p>“He let her go,” explained the reporter judicially, “because
+he’s the wiliest old fox in Bellechester County. He knows
+perfectly well that while he has a fair sporting chance of
+instilling the suspicion in the twelve essential heads that Mr. Phipps
+is a libertine and a bribe taker and a perjurer, he hasn’t the
+chance of the proverbial snowball to make them believe that
+Sally Dunne could speak anything but the truth to save her life
+or her soul. That child could make the tales of Munchausen
+sound like the eternal verities. The quicker he can get her off
+the stand, the more chance he has of saving his case.”</p>
+
+<p>“Save it? How can he save it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that’s probably what he’d like to know. As the
+prosecutor is supposed to be a seeker after truth, rather than a
+blood-hound after blood, he has rather a tough row to hoe. And
+here’s where he starts hoeing it.”</p>
+
+<p>“The state has no comment to make on the testimony that
+you have just heard,” Mr. Farr was saying to the twelve jurors
+with an expression of truly exalted detachment, “other than to
+ask you to remember that, after all, these two last witnesses
+are no more than human beings, subject to the errors, the
+frailties, and the weaknesses of other human beings. If you will
+bear that in mind in weighing their evidence, I do not feel that
+it will be necessary to add one other word.”</p>
+
+<p>Judge Carver eyed him thoughtfully for a moment over the
+glasses that he had adjusted to his fine nose. Then, with a
+perfunctory rap of his gavel, he turned to the papers in his
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>“Gentlemen of the jury, the long and anxious inquiry in
+which we have been engaged is drawing to a close, and it now
+becomes my duty to address you. It has been, however
+painful, of a most absorbing interest, and it has undoubtedly
+engaged the closest attention of every one of you. You will not
+regret the strain that that attention has placed upon you when
+it shortly becomes your task to weigh the evidence that has
+been put before you.</p>
+
+<p>“At the very outset of my charge I desire to make several
+things quite clear. You and you alone are the sole judges of fact.
+Any comment that the Court may make as to the weight or
+value of any features of the evidence is merely his way of
+suggestion, and is in no possible way binding on the jury. Nor do
+statements made by counsel as to the innocence or guilt of the
+defendants, or as to any other conclusions or inferences drawn
+by them, prove anything whatever or have any effect as
+evidence.</p>
+
+<p>“It is not necessary for any person accused in a court in
+this county to prove that he is not guilty. It devolves on the
+state to prove that he is. If you have a reasonable doubt as to
+whether the state has proved his guilt, it is your duty to return
+a verdict of not guilty. That is the law of the land.</p>
+
+<p>“Now, having a reasonable doubt does not mean that by
+some far-fetched and fantastic hypothesis you can arrive at the
+conclusion of not guilty because any other conclusion is painful
+and distasteful and abhorrent to you. There is hardly anything
+that an ingenious mind cannot bring itself to doubt, granted
+sufficient industry and application. A reasonable doubt is not one
+that you would conjure up in the middle of a dark, sleepless,
+and troubled night, but one that would lead you to say
+naturally when you went about your business in clear daylight,
+‘Well, I can’t quite make up my mind about the real facts
+behind that proposition.’ Not beyond any possible
+doubt—beyond a reasonable doubt—bear that in mind.</p>
+
+<p>“To convict either of the defendants under this indictment,
+the state must prove to your satisfaction beyond reasonable
+doubt:</p>
+
+<p>“First, that Madeleine Bellamy is dead and was murdered.</p>
+
+<p>“Second, that this murder took place in Bellechester County.</p>
+
+<p>“And third, that such defendant either committed that
+murder by actually perpetrating the killing or by participating
+therein as a principal.</p>
+
+<p>“That Madeleine Bellamy is dead is perfectly clear. That
+she was murdered has not been controverted by either the state
+or the defense. That the murder took place in Bellechester
+County is not in dispute. The only actual problem that
+confronts you is the third one: Did Mrs. Ives and Mr. Bellamy
+participate in the murder of this unfortunate girl?</p>
+
+<p>“The state tells you that they did, and in support of that
+statement they advance the following facts:</p>
+
+<p>“They claim that on Saturday the nineteenth of June, 1926,
+at about five o’clock in the afternoon, Mrs. Ives received
+information from Mr. Elliot Farwell as to relations between
+Mr. Ives and Mrs. Bellamy that affected her so violently and
+painfully that she thereupon——”</p>
+
+<hr>
+
+<p>“I can’t stand hearing it all over again,” remarked the
+red-headed girl in a small ominous whisper. “I can’t stand it, I tell
+you! If he starts telling us again that Sue Ives went home and
+called up Stephen Bellamy, I’ll stand up and scream so that
+they’ll hear me in Philadelphia. I’ll——”</p>
+
+<p>“Look here, you’d better get out of here,” said the reporter
+in tones of unfeigned alarm. “Tell you what you do. You
+crawl out very quietly to that side door where the fat officer
+with the sandy moustache is standing. He’s a good guy, and
+you tell him that I told you that he’d let you out before you
+fainted all over the place. You can sit on the stairs leading to
+the third floor; I’ll get word to you when he’s through with
+the evidence, and you can crawl back the same way.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right,” said the red-headed girl feebly.</p>
+
+<p>The reporter glanced cautiously about. “It’ll help if you can
+go both ways on four paws; the judge doesn’t like to think that
+he’s boring any member of the press, and if he sees one of us
+escaping, he’s liable to call out the machine guns. Take long,
+deep breaths and pretend that it’s day after tomorrow.”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl gave him a look of dazed scorn and
+moved toward the left-hand door at a gait that came as close
+to being on four paws as was compatible with the dignity of
+the press. The fat officer gave one alarmed look at her small,
+wan face and hastily opened the door. She crawled through it,
+discovered the stairs, mounted them obediently and sank
+somewhat precipitately to rest on the sixth one from the top.</p>
+
+<p>Down below, she could hear the mob outside of the great
+centre doors, shuffling and grunting and yapping—— Ugh!
+Ugh! She shuddered and propped up her elbows on her knees
+and her head on her hands, and closed her eyes and closed her
+ears and breathed deeply and fervently.</p>
+
+<p>“If ever I go to a murder trial again—— What happens to
+you when you don’t sleep for a week? . . . If
+ever—I—go——”</p>
+
+<p>Someone was saying, “Hey!” It was a small, freckled boy in
+a messenger’s cap, and he had evidently been saying it for some
+time, as his voice had a distinctly crescendo quality. He
+extended one of the familiar telegraph blanks and vanished. The
+red-headed girl read it solemnly, trying to look very wide
+awake and intelligent, as is the wont of those abruptly wakened.</p>
+
+<p>The telegram said: “Come home. All is forgiven, and he’s
+through with the evidence. It’s going to the jury in a split
+second. Hurry!”</p>
+
+<p>She hurried. Quite suddenly she felt extraordinarily wide
+awake and amazingly alert and frantically excited. She was
+a reporter—she was at a murder trial—they were going to
+consider the verdict. She flew down the white marble stairs
+and around the first corner and through the crack of the door
+proffered by the startled guard. There were wings at her
+heels and vine leaves in her hair. She felt like a giant
+refreshed—that was it, a giant. . . .</p>
+
+<p>The reporter eyed her with his mouth open. “Well, for
+heaven’s sake, what’s happened to you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Everything’s all right, isn’t it?” she demanded feverishly.
+“They won’t be out long, will they? There’s nothing——” A
+familiar voice fell ominously on her ears and she jerked
+incredulous eyes toward the throne of justice. “Oh, he’s still
+talking! You said he was through—you did! You said——”</p>
+
+<p>“I said through with the evidence, and so he is. This is just
+a back fire. If you’ll keep quiet a minute you’ll see.”</p>
+
+<hr>
+
+<p>“I wish simply, therefore, to remind you,” the weary voice
+was saying, “that however unusual, arresting and dramatic
+the circumstances surrounding the testimony of these last two
+witnesses may have been, you should approach this evidence
+in precisely the same spirit that you approach all the other
+evidence that has been placed before you. It should be submitted
+to exactly the same tests of credibility that you apply to every
+word that has been uttered before you—no more and no less.</p>
+
+<p>“One more word and I have done. The degrees of murder
+I have defined for you. You will govern your verdict
+accordingly. The sentence is not your concern; that lies with the
+Court. It is your duty, and your sole duty, to decide whether
+Susan Ives and Stephen Bellamy are either or both of them
+guilty of the murder of Madeleine Bellamy. I am convinced
+that you will perform that duty faithfully. Gentlemen, you
+may consider your verdict.”</p>
+
+<p>Slowly and stiffly the twelve men rose to their feet and stood
+staring about them uncertainly, as though loath to be about
+their business.</p>
+
+<p>“If you desire further instruction as to any point that is not
+quite clear to you,” said Judge Carver gravely, “I may be
+reached in my room here. Any of the exhibits that you desire to
+see will be put at your disposal. You may retire, gentlemen.”</p>
+
+<p>They shuffled solemnly out through the little door to the
+right of the witness, the small, beady-eyed bailiff with the
+mutton-chop whiskers and the anxious frown trotting close at
+their heels. The door closed behind them with a gentle,
+ominous finality, and someone in the courtroom sighed—loudly,
+uncontrollably—a prophecy of the coming intolerable suspense.</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl wrung her hands together in a
+despairing effort to warm them. Twelve men—twelve ordinary,
+everyday men, whose faces looked heavy and stupid with strain and
+fatigue . . . She pressed her hands together harder and turned
+a pale face toward the other door.</p>
+
+<p>Susan Ives and Stephen Bellamy had just reached it; they
+lingered there for a moment to smile gravely and reassuringly
+at the hovering Lambert, and then were gone, as quietly as
+though they were about to walk down the steps to waiting
+cars instead of to a black hell of uncertainty and suspense.</p>
+
+<p>Those in the courtroom still sat breathlessly silent, held in
+check by Judge Carver’s stern eye. After a moment he, too,
+rose; for a moment, it seemed that all the room was filled with
+the rustle of his black silk robes, and then he, too, was gone,
+with decorum following hard on his heels.</p>
+
+<p>In less than thirty seconds, the quiet, orderly room was
+transformed into something rather less sedate than the careless
+excitement of a Saturday-afternoon crowd at a ball
+park—psychologically they were reduced to shirt sleeves and straw
+hats tilted well back on their heads. The red-headed girl
+stared at them with round, appalled eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Just behind her they were forming a pool. Someone with a
+squeaky voice was betting that they would be back in twenty
+minutes; someone with an Oxford accent was betting that
+they’d take two hours; a girl’s pleasant tones offered five to
+one that it would be a hung jury. Large red apples were
+materializing, the smoke of a hundred cigarettes filled the air, and
+rumour’s voice was loud in the land:</p>
+
+<p>“Listen, did you hear about Melanie Cordier? Someone
+telephoned that she’d collapsed at the inn in Rosemont and
+confessed that Platz had done it, and about one o’clock this
+morning every taxicab in Redfield was skidding around corners to
+get there first. And she hadn’t been there since last Friday,
+let alone collapsed!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, you wouldn’t get me out of my bed at one in the
+morning to hear Cal Coolidge say he’d done it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you hear the row that Irish landlady was setting up
+about a state witness taking her seat? Oh, boy, what an eye
+that lady’s got! It sure would tame a wildcat!”</p>
+
+<p>“Anyone want to bet ten to one that they’ll be out all night?”</p>
+
+<p>The voice of an officer of the court said loudly and
+authoritatively, “No smoking in here! No smoking, please!”</p>
+
+<p>There was a temporary lull, and a perfunctory and irritable
+tapping of cigarettes against chair arms. The clock over the
+courtroom door said four.</p>
+
+<p>“Have some chocolate?” inquired the reporter solicitously.
+The red-headed girl shuddered. “Well, but, my good child, you
+haven’t had a mouthful of lunch, and if you aren’t careful you
+won’t have a mouthful of dinner either. Lord knows how long
+that crew will be in there.”</p>
+
+<p>“How long?” inquired the red-headed girl fiercely. “Why,
+for heaven’s sake, should they be long? Why, for heaven’s sake,
+can’t they come out of there now and say, ‘Not guilty’?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, there’s a good old-fashioned custom that they’re
+supposed to weigh the evidence; they may be celebrating that.”</p>
+
+<p>“What have they to weigh? They heard Mr. Phipps, didn’t
+they?”</p>
+
+<p>“They did indeed. And what they may well spend the next
+twenty-four hours debating is whether they consider Mr. Phipps
+a long-suffering martyr or a well-paid liar.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, go away—go away! I can’t bear you!”</p>
+
+<p>“You can’t bear me?” inquired the reporter incredulously.
+“Me?”</p>
+
+<p>“No—yes—never mind. Go away; you say perfectly horrible
+things.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not as horrible as you do,” said the reporter. “Can’t bear
+me, indeed! I didn’t say that I thought that Phipps was a liar.
+As a matter of fact, I thought he was as nice a guy as I ever
+saw in my life, poor devil, even if he did read the <i>Idylls of the
+King</i> aloud. . . . Can’t bear me!”</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t bear anything,” said the red-headed girl despairingly.
+“Go away!”</p>
+
+<p>After he had gone, she had a sudden overwhelming impulse
+to dash after him and beg him to take her with him,
+anywhere he went—everywhere—always. She was still
+contemplating the impulse with horrified amazement when the girl from the
+Louisville paper who sat three seats down from her leaned
+forward. She was a nice, cynical, sensible-looking girl, but for
+the moment she was a little pale.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s not a possibility that they could return a verdict
+of guilty, is there?” she inquired in a carefully detached voice.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, juries!” said the red-headed girl drearily. “They can
+do anything. They’re just plain, average, everyday,
+walking-around people, and average, everyday people can do anything
+in the world. That’s why we have murders and murder trials.”</p>
+
+<p>The girl from the Louisville paper stood up abruptly. “I
+think I’ll get a little air,” she said, and added in a somewhat
+apologetic voice, “It’s my first murder trial.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s my last,” said the red-headed girl grimly.</p>
+
+<p>The officer of the court had disappeared, and all about her
+there were rising once more the little blue coils of smoke—incense
+on the altars of relaxation. Why didn’t he come back. . . .
+The clock over the courtroom door said five.</p>
+
+<p>On the courtroom floor there was a mounting tide of
+newspapers, telegraph blanks, leaves from notebooks and ruled
+pads—many nervous hands had made light work, tearing, crumpling,
+and crushing their destructive way through the implements of
+their trade. There was an empty pop bottle just by the rail,
+apple cores and banana skins were everywhere, clouds of
+smoke, fragments of buns, a high, nervous murmur of voices;
+a picnic ground on the fifth of July would have presented a
+more appetizing appearance. Over all was a steady roar of
+voices, and one higher than the rest, lamenting: “Over two
+hours—that’s a hung jury as sure as shooting! I might just as
+well kiss that ten dollars good-bye here and now. Got a light,
+Larry?”</p>
+
+<p>The door to the left of the witness box opened abruptly, and
+for a moment Judge Carver stood framed in it, tall and stern
+in his black robes. Under his accusing eye, apples and cigarettes
+were suddenly as unobtrusive as the skin on a chameleon, and
+voices fell to silence. He stood staring at them fixedly for a
+moment and then withdrew as abruptly as he had come. While
+you could have counted ten, silence hung heavy; then once more
+the smoke and the voices rose and fell. . . . The clock over
+the courtroom door said six.</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl moved an aimless pencil across an empty
+pad with unsteady fingers. There were quite a lot of empty
+seats. What were those twelve men doing now? Weighing the
+evidence? Well, but how did you weigh evidence? What was
+important and what wasn’t? . . . And suddenly she was back
+in the only courtroom that she could remember clearly—the
+one in Alice in Wonderland, and the King was saying proudly,
+“Well, that’s very important.” “Unimportant, Your Majesty
+means.” And she could hear the poor little King trying it over
+to himself to see which sounded the best.
+“Important—unimportant—important——” There was the lamp—and the date
+on the letters—and the note that nobody had
+found—unimportant—important. . . . There was a juryman called Bill the
+Lizard. She remembered that he had dipped his tail in ink and
+had written down all the hours and dates in the case on his
+slate, industriously adding them up and reducing the grand total
+to pounds, shillings, and pence. Perhaps that was the safest
+way, after all.</p>
+
+<p>June 19, 1926, and May 8, 1916. . . . A boy came running
+down the aisle with a basketful of sandwiches and chewing
+gum; there was another one with pink editions of the evening
+papers; it was exactly like a ball game or a circus. . . . Where
+was he? Wasn’t he coming back at all? . . . Outside the snow
+was falling; you could see it white against the black windowpanes,
+and all the lights in the courtroom were blazing. . . .
+Well, but where was he?</p>
+
+<p>A voice from somewhere just behind her said ominously,
+“Can’t bear me, can’t she? I’ll learn her!”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl screwed around in her seat. He was
+leaning over the back of the chair next to her with a curious
+expression on his not unagreeable countenance.</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl said in a small, abject voice that
+shocked her profoundly, “Don’t go away—don’t go away
+again.”</p>
+
+<p>The reporter, looking startlingly pale under the glaring
+lights, remarked casually, “I don’t believe that I’ll marry you
+after all.”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl could feel herself go first very white
+and then very red and then very white again. She could hear
+her heart pounding just behind her ears. In a voice even more
+casual than the reporter’s she inquired, “After all what?”</p>
+
+<p>“After all your nonsense,” said the reporter severely.</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl said in a voice so small and abject that
+it was practically inaudible, “Please do!”</p>
+
+<p>“What are we doing in here?” inquired the reporter in a
+loud clear voice. “What are we doing in a courtroom at a
+murder trial, with two hundred and fifty-four people watching
+us? Where’s a beach? Where’s an apple orchard? Where’s a
+moonlit garden with a nightingale? You get up and put your
+things on and come out of this place.”</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed girl rose docilely to her feet. After all, what
+were they doing there? What was a murder trial or verdict
+or a newspaper story compared to—— She halted, riveted with
+amazement.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, mysteriously, incredibly, the courtroom was all in
+motion. No one had crossed a threshold, no one had raised a
+voice; but as surely as though they had been tossed out of their
+seats by some gigantic hand, the crowd was in flight. One
+stampede toward the door from the occupants of the seats, another
+stampede from the occupants of the seats toward the door, a
+hundred voices calling, regardless of law and order.</p>
+
+<p>“Keep that ’phone line open!”</p>
+
+<p>“They’re coming!”</p>
+
+<p>“Dorothy! Dorothy!”</p>
+
+<p>“Have Stan take the board!”</p>
+
+<p>“Where’s Larry? Larry!”</p>
+
+<p>“Get Red—get Red, for God’s sake!”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s my chair—snap out of it, will you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Watch for that flash—Bill’s going to signal.”</p>
+
+<p>“Dorothy!”</p>
+
+<p>“Get to that door!”</p>
+
+<p>And silence as sudden as the tumult. Through the left-hand
+door were coming two quiet, familiar figures, and through
+the right-hand door one robed in black. The clock over the
+courthouse door stood at a quarter to seven.</p>
+
+<p>“Is there an officer at that door?” Judge Carver’s voice
+was harsh with anger. “Officer, take that door. No one out of
+it or in it until the verdict has been delivered.”</p>
+
+<p>Despairing eyes exchanged frantic glances. Well, but what
+about the last edition? They’re holding the presses until seven.
+What about the last edition? Hurry, hurry!</p>
+
+<p>But the ambassador of the majestic law was quite unhurried.
+“I have a few words to say to the occupants of this courtroom.
+If at the conclusion of the verdict there is a demonstration
+of any kind whatsoever, the offenders will be brought before
+me and promptly dealt with as being in contempt of court.
+Officers, hold the doors.”</p>
+
+<p>And through another door—the little one behind the seat
+of justice—twelve tired men were filing, gaunt, solemn eyed,
+awkward—the farmers, merchants, and salesmen who held in
+their awkward hands the terrible power of life and death. The
+red-headed girl clutched the solid, tweed-covered arm beside
+her as though she were drowning.</p>
+
+<p>There they stood in a neat semicircle under the merciless
+glare of the lights, their upturned faces white and spent.</p>
+
+<p>“Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed on a verdict?”</p>
+
+<p>A deep-voiced chorus answered solemnly, “We have.”</p>
+
+<p>“Prisoner, look upon the jury. Jury, look upon the prisoners.”</p>
+
+<p>Unflinching and inscrutable, the white faces obeyed the
+grave voice.</p>
+
+<p>“Foreman, how do you find as to Stephen Bellamy, guilty
+or not guilty?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not guilty.”</p>
+
+<p>A tremor went through the court and was stilled.</p>
+
+<p>“How do you find as to Susan Ives?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not guilty.”</p>
+
+<p>For a moment no one moved, no one stirred, no one breathed.
+And then, abruptly, the members of the fourth estate forgot
+the majesty of law and remembered the majesty of the press.
+Three minutes to seven—three minutes to make the last
+edition! The mad rush for the doors was stoutly halted by the
+zealous guardians, who clung devoutly to their posts, and the
+air was rent with stentorian shouts: “Sit down there!” “Keep
+quiet!” “Order! Order!” “Take your hands off of me!”—and
+the thunder of Judge Carver’s gavel.</p>
+
+<p>And caught once more between the thunder of the press
+and the law, two stood oblivious of it. Stephen Bellamy’s
+haunted face was turned steadfastly toward the little door
+beyond which lay freedom, but Susan Ives had turned away from
+it. Her eyes were on a black head bent low in the corner by
+the window, and at the look in them, so fearless, so valiant, and
+so eager, the red-headed girl found suddenly that she was
+weeping, shamelessly and desperately, into something that smelt
+of tweed—and tobacco—and heaven. . . . The clock over the
+door said seven. The Bellamy trial was over.</p>
+
+<hr>
+
+<p>The judge came into the little room that served him as
+office in the courthouse with a step lighter than had crossed its
+threshold for many days. It was a good room; the dark
+panelling went straight up to the ceiling; there were two wide
+windows and two deep chairs and a great shining desk piled high
+with books and papers. Against the walls rose row upon row
+of warm, pleasant-coloured books, and over the door hung a
+great engraving of Justice in her flowing robes of white,
+smiling gravely down at the bandage in her hands that man has
+seen fit to place over her eyes. Across the room from her,
+between the two windows, his robes flowing black, sat John
+Marshall, that great gentleman, his dark eyes eternally fixed on
+hers, as though they shared some secret understanding.</p>
+
+<p>Judge Carver looked from one to the other a little anxiously
+as he came in, and they smiled back at him reassuringly. For
+thirty years the three of them had been old friends.</p>
+
+<p>He crossed to the desk with a suddenly quickened step. The
+lamps were lighted, and reflected in its top as in a mirror he
+could see the short, stubby, nut-coloured pipe, the huge brass
+bowl into which a giant might have spilled his ashes, the
+capacious box of matches yawning agreeably in his tired face. The
+black robes were heavy on his shoulders, and he lifted an
+impatient hand to them, when he paused, arrested by the sight of
+the central stack of papers.</p>
+
+<p>“Gentlemen of the jury, the long and anxious inquiry in
+which we have been engaged——”</p>
+
+<p>Now just what was it that he’d said to them about a
+principal and an accessory before the fact being one and the same in a
+murder case? Of course, as a practical matter, that was quite
+accurate. Still—He ran through the papers with skilled
+fingers—there! “An accessory after the fact is one who——”</p>
+
+<p>There was a knock on the door and he lifted an irritated
+voice: “Come in!”</p>
+
+<p>The door opened cautiously, and under the smiling Justice
+in her flowing robes a little boy was standing, freckle-faced,
+blue-eyed, black-haired, in the rusty green of the messenger’s
+uniform. Behind him the judge could see the worried face of
+old Martin, the clerk of the court.</p>
+
+<p>“I couldn’t do anything with him at all, Your Honour. I
+told him you were busy, and I told him you were engaged,
+and I told him you’d given positive orders not to be disturbed,
+and all he’d say was, ‘I swore I’d give it into his hands, and
+into his hands it goes, if I stay in this place until the moon goes
+down and the sun comes up.’ ”</p>
+
+<p>“And that’s what I promised,” said the small creature at the
+door in a squeak of terrified obstinacy. “And that’s what I’ll
+do. No matter what——”</p>
+
+<p>“All right, all right, put it down there and be off.” The
+judge’s voice was not too long-suffering.</p>
+
+<p>“Into his hands is what I said, and into his hands——”</p>
+
+<p>The judge stretched out one fine lean hand with a smile
+that warmed his cold face like a fire. The other hand went to
+his pocket. “Here, if you keep on being an honourable nuisance,
+you may have a career ahead of you. Good-night, Martin; show
+the young gentleman to the door. If any one else disturbs me
+to-night, he’s fired.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, by all means, Your Honour. Good-night, Your
+Honour.”</p>
+
+<p>The door closed reverently, and His Honour stood staring
+absently down at the letter in his hand, the smile still in his
+eyes. A fat, a plethoric, an apoplectic letter; three red seals on
+the flap of the envelope flaunted themselves at him importantly.
+He turned it over carelessly. The clear, delicate, vigorous
+writing greeted him like a challenge:</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>“Judge Carver.</p>
+<p>“To be delivered to him personally without fail.”</p>
+
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Very impressive! He tore open the sealed flap with irreverent
+fingers and shook the contents out on to the desk. Good Lord,
+it was a three-volume novel! Page after page of that fine
+writing, precise and accurate as print. He lifted it curiously, and
+something fluttered out and lay staring up at him from the
+table. A piece of blue paper, flimsy, creased and soiled, the
+round childish writing sprawled recklessly across its battered
+surface:</p>
+
+<blockquote class="letter">
+
+<p class="dateline">10 A. M., June 19th.</p>
+
+<p>Pat, I’ll catch either the eight or eight-thirty bus——</p>
+
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Very slowly, very carefully, he picked it up, the smile dying
+in his incredulous eyes.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="letter">
+
+<p>Pat, I’ll catch either the eight or eight-thirty bus. That will get me
+to the cottage before nine, at the latest. I’ll wait there until half past.
+You can make any excuse that you want to Sue, but get there—and
+be sure that you bring what you promised. I think you realize as well
+as I do that there’s no use talking any more. We’re a long way beyond
+words, and from now on we’ll confine ourselves to deeds. It’s absurd
+to think that Steve will suspect anything. I can fool him absolutely, and
+once we settle the details to-night, we can get off any moment that we
+decide on. California! Oh, Pat, I can’t wait! And when you realize
+how happy we’re going to be, you won’t have any regrets either. You
+always did say that you wanted me to be happy—remember?</p>
+
+<p class="signature">Mimi.</p>
+
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Judge Carver pushed the deep chair closer to the lamp and
+sat down in it heavily, pulling the closely written pages toward
+him. He looked old and tired.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="letter">
+
+<p class="dateline">“Midnight.</p>
+<p class="salutation">“My dear Judge Carver:</p>
+
+<p>“I am fully aware of the fact that I am doing a cowardly
+thing in writing you this letter. It is simply an attempt on my
+part to shift my own burden to another’s shoulders, and my
+shoulders should surely be sufficiently used to burdens by this
+time. But this one is of so strange, awkward, and terrible a
+shape that I must get rid of it at any cost to my pride or sense
+of fair play—or to your peace of mind. If the verdict to-morrow
+is guilty, of course, I’ll not send the letter, but simply turn the
+facts over to the prosecutor. I am spending to-night writing you
+this in case it is not guilty.</p>
+
+<p>“It was I who killed Madeleine Bellamy. It seems simply
+incredible to me that everyone should not have guessed it long
+before now.</p>
+
+<p>“Kathleen Page, Melanie Cordier, Laura Roberts, Patrick,
+Sue, I myself—we told you so over and over again. That
+singularly obnoxious and alert Mr. Farr—is it possible that he has
+never suspected—not even when I explained to him that at
+ten o’clock I was in the flower room, washing off my hands?
+And yet a few minutes later he was asking me if there wasn’t
+a sink in the pantry where my poor Sue might have cleansed her
+own hands of Mimi Bellamy’s blood—and every face in the
+court was sick with the horror of that thought.</p>
+
+<p>“We told you everything, and no one even listened.</p>
+
+<p>“Who knew about the path across the meadow to the summerhouse?
+I, not Sue. Who could see the study window clearly
+from the rose garden? I, not Sue. Who had that hour and a
+half between 8:30 and ten absolutely alone and unobserved?
+I, not Sue. Who had every motive that was ascribed to Sue
+multiplied ten times over? I, who had known poverty beside
+which Sue’s years in New York were a gay adventure; who had
+not only a child to fight for, but that child’s children; who,
+after a lifetime of grim nightmare, had found paradise; and
+who saw coming to thrust me out from that paradise not an
+angel with a flaming sword, but a little empty-headed,
+empty-hearted chit, cheap, mercenary, and implacable, as only the
+empty-headed can be.</p>
+
+<p>“I know, Judge Carver, that the burden that I am trying to
+shift to your shoulders should be heaviest of all with the weight
+of remorse; and there is in it, I can swear to you, enough
+remorse to bow stronger shoulders than either yours or
+mine—but none, none for the death of Mimi Bellamy.</p>
+
+<p>“Remorse for these past weeks has eaten me to the bone—for
+the shame and terror and peril that I have brought to my
+children, for the sorrow and menace that I have brought to
+that gentle soul, Stephen Bellamy—even for the death of poor
+Elliot Farwell; that was my doing, too, I think. I do not
+shirk it.</p>
+
+<p>“I am rather an old-fashioned person. I believe in hell, and
+I believe that I shall probably go there because I killed Mimi
+Bellamy and because I’m not sorry for it; but the hell that I’ve
+been living through every day and every night since she died
+is not one shadow darker because it was I who gave her the
+little push that sped her from one world to another.</p>
+
+<p>“When that unpleasant Mr. Farr was invoking the
+vengeance of heaven and earth on the fiend who had stopped
+forever the silver music of the dead girl’s laughter, I remembered
+that the last time that she laughed it had been at an old woman
+on her knees begging for the happiness and safety of two
+babies—and the world did not seem to me to have lost much when
+that laughter ceased. That is frightful, isn’t it? But that is
+true.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll try to go back so that you can understand exactly what
+happened; then you can tell better, perhaps, what I should
+do and what you should do with me. First of all, I must go
+very far back, indeed—back thirty years, to a manufacturing
+town in northern New York.</p>
+
+<p>“Thirty-one years ago last June, my husband left me with the
+nineteen-year-old daughter of my Norwegian landlady. You
+couldn’t exactly blame him, of course. Trudie was as pretty
+as the girl on the cover of the most expensive candy box you ever
+saw, and as unscrupulous as Messalina—and I wasn’t either.</p>
+
+<p>“I was much too busy being sick and miserable and cross and
+sorry for myself to be anything else at all, so he walked off
+with Trudie and nineteen dollars and fifty cents out of the
+teapot and left me with a six-weeks-old baby and a gold
+wedding ring that wasn’t exactly gold. And my landlady wouldn’t
+give me even one day’s grace rent free, because she was
+naturally a little put out by her daughter’s unceremonious departure,
+and quite frankly held me to blame for it, as she said a girl
+who couldn’t hold her own man wasn’t likely worth her board
+and keep.</p>
+
+<p>“So, just like the lady in the bad melodramas, I wrapped
+my baby up in a shawl and started out to find work at the
+factory. Of course I didn’t find it. It was a slack season at the
+factories, and I looked like a sick little scarecrow, and I hadn’t
+even money for car fare. I spent the first evening of my career
+as a breadwinner begging for pennies on the more prominent
+street corners. It’s one way to get bread.</p>
+
+<p>“In the next twenty years I tried a great many other ways
+of getting it, including, on two occasions, stealing it. But that
+was only the first year; after that we always had bread, though
+often there wasn’t enough of it, and generally it was stale, and
+frequently there wasn’t anything to put on it.</p>
+
+<p>“When people talk about the fear of poverty, I wonder
+whether they have the remotest idea of what they’re talking
+about. I wasn’t rich when I married Dan; I was the daughter
+of a not oversuccessful lawyer, and I thought that we were
+quite poor, because often we went through periods where pot
+roast instead of chicken played a prominent part in the family
+diet, and my best dress had to be of tarlatan instead of taffeta,
+and I possessed only two pairs of kid gloves that reached to
+my elbow, and one that reached to my shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>“I was very, very sorry for myself during those periods, and
+used to go around with faintly pink eyes and a strong sense of
+martyrdom. I wasn’t at all a noble character. I liked going to
+cotillions at night and staying in bed in the morning, and
+wringing terrified proposals from callow young men who were
+completely undone by the combination of moonlight and
+mandolin playing. Besides playing the mandolin, I could make two
+kinds of candy and feather-stitch quite well and dance the
+lancers better than anyone in town—and I knew most of
+Lucile by heart. Thus lavishly equipped for the exigencies
+of holy matrimony, I proceeded to elope with Mr. Daniel
+Ives.</p>
+
+<p>“I won’t bother you much with Dan. He was the leading
+man in a stock company that came to our town, and three weeks
+after he saw me sitting worshipping in the front row we
+decided that life without each other would be an empty farce and
+shook the dust of that town from our heels forever. It was very,
+very romantic, indeed, for the first six days—and after that
+it wasn’t so romantic.</p>
+
+<p>“Because I, who could feather-stitch so nicely, was a bad
+cook and a bad manager and a bad housewife and a bad sport—a
+bad wife, in short. I wasn’t precisely happy, and I thought
+that it was perfectly safe to be all those things, because it simply
+never entered my head that one human being could get so tired
+of another human being that he could quietly walk out and
+leave her to starve to death. And I was as wrong about that,
+as I’d been about everything else.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m telling you all this not to excuse myself, but simply
+to explain, so that you will understand a little, perhaps, what
+sent my feet hurrying across the meadow path, what brought
+them back to the flower room at ten o’clock that night. I think
+that two people went to meet Madeleine Bellamy in the cottage
+that night—a nice, well-behaved little white-headed lady and
+the wilful, spoiled, terrified girl that the nice old lady thought
+that she had killed thirty years ago. It’s only fair to you that
+I should explain that, because of what I’m going to ask you
+to decide. And it is only fair to myself that I should say this.</p>
+
+<p>“For twenty years I was too cold, too hot, too tired and
+sick and faint ever to be really comfortable for one moment.
+And I won’t pretend that I looked forward with equanimity
+to surrendering one single comfort or luxury that had finally
+come to make life beautiful and gracious. But that wasn’t why
+I killed Madeleine Bellamy. I ask you to believe that.</p>
+
+<p>“The real terror of poverty isn’t that we ourselves suffer.
+It is that we are absolutely and utterly powerless to lift one
+finger to protect and defend those who are dearest to us in
+the world. Judge Carver, when Pat was sick when he was a
+baby I didn’t have enough money to get a doctor for him; I
+didn’t have enough money to get medicine. When I went to
+work I had to leave him with people who were vile and filthy
+and debased in body and soul, because they were the only people
+that I could afford to leave him with.</p>
+
+<p>“Once when I came home I couldn’t wake him up, and the
+woman who was with him was terrified into telling me that
+he’d been crying so dreadfully that she’d given him some stuff
+that a Hungarian woman on the next floor said was fine for
+crying babies. I carried him and the bottle with the stuff in
+it ten blocks to a drug store—and they told me that it had
+opium in it. She’d given him half the bottle—to my Pat. And
+another time the woman with him got drunk and—— But I
+can’t talk about that, not even to make you understand. He
+never had any toys in his life but some tin cans and empty
+spools and pieces of string. He never had anything but me.</p>
+
+<p>“And I swore to myself that as long as he had me he should
+have everything. I would be beauty to him, and peace and
+gentleness and graciousness and gaiety and strength. I wasn’t beautiful
+or peaceful or gentle or gracious or gay or strong, but I made
+myself all those things for him. That isn’t vanity—that’s the
+truth. I swore that he should never see me shed one tear, that
+he should never hear me lift my voice in anger, that he should
+never see me tremble before anything that fate should hold in
+store for either of us. He never did—no, truly, he never did.
+That was all that I could give him, but I did give him that.</p>
+
+<p>“It took me seventeen years to save up enough railway fare
+to get out of that town. Then I came to Rosemont. A nice
+woman that I did some sewing for in the town had a sister in
+Rosemont. She told me that it was a lovely place and that she
+thought that there was a good opening there for some work, and
+that her sister was looking for boarders. So I took the few
+dollars that I’d saved and went, and you know the rest.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course there are some things that you don’t know—you
+don’t know how brave and gay and gentle Pat has always been
+to me; you don’t know how happy we all were in the flat in
+New York, after he married Sue and the babies came. Sue helped
+me with the housekeeping, and Sue did some secretarial work
+at the university, and Pat did anything that turned up, and did
+it splendidly. We always had plenty to eat, and it was really
+clean and sunny, and we were all perfectly healthy and happy.
+Only, Sue never did talk about it much, because she is a very
+reserved child, in any case, and in this case she was afraid that
+it might seem a reflection on the Thornes that she had to live
+in a little walk-up flat in the Bronx, with no servants and pretty
+plain living.</p>
+
+<p>“And Mr. Lambert was nervous about bringing out
+anything about it in direct examination for fear that in
+cross-examination Mr. Farr would twist things around to make it
+look as though Sue had undergone the tortures of the damned.
+Of course, we didn’t have much, but we had enough to make it
+seem a luxurious and care-free existence in comparison to the
+one that Pat and I had lived for over fifteen years.</p>
+
+<p>“Those things you don’t know—and one other. You don’t
+know Polly and Pete, do you, Judge Carver?</p>
+
+<p>“They are very wonderful children. I suppose that every
+grandmother thinks that her grandchildren are rather
+wonderful; but I don’t just think it about them; they are. Anyone
+would tell you that—anyone who had ever seen them. They’re
+the bravest, happiest, strongest little things. You could be with
+them for weeks and never once hear them cry. Of course, once
+in a very long while—if you have to scold them, for instance—because
+Pete is quite sensitive; but then you almost never have
+to scold them, and when Pete broke his leg last winter and Dr.
+Chilton set it he said that he had never seen such courage in a
+child. And when Polly was only two years old, she walked
+straight out into the ocean up to her chin, and she’d have gone
+farther still if her father hadn’t caught her up. She rides a pony
+better than any seven-year-old child in Rosemont, too, and she
+isn’t five yet—not until January—and the only time that she
+ever fell off the pony she never even whimpered—not once.</p>
+
+<p>“They are very beautiful children too. Pete is quite fair and
+Polly is very dark, but they both have blue eyes and very dark
+eyelashes. They are so brown, too, and tall. It doesn’t seem
+possible that either of them could ever be sick or unhappy; but still,
+you have to be careful. Polly has been threatened twice with
+mastoiditis, and Pete has to have his leg massaged three times a
+week, because he still limps a little.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s why I killed Madeleine Bellamy.</p>
+
+<p>“The first time I realized that there was anything between
+her and Pat was almost a month before the murder, some time
+early in May, I think. Sue had been having quite a dinner
+party, and I’d slipped out to the garden as usual as soon as I
+could get away. I decided to gather some lilacs, and I came back
+to the house to get the scissors from the flower room. As I
+passed the study I saw Pat and Mimi silhouetted against the
+study window; she was bending over, pretending to look at the
+ship he was making, but she wasn’t looking at it—she was
+looking at Pat.</p>
+
+<p>“I’d always thought that she was a scatterbrained little
+goose, and I had never liked her particularly; even in the old
+days in the village I used to worry about her sometimes. She
+used too much perfume and too much pink powder, and she had
+an empty little voice and a horrid, excited little laugh. But I
+thought that she was good-natured and harmless enough, when I
+thought about her at all, and I was about to pass on, when she
+said something that riveted me in my footsteps.</p>
+
+<p>“She said, ‘Pat, listen, did you get my note?’ He said, ‘Yes.’
+She asked, ‘Are you coming?’ And he said, ‘I don’t know. I’m
+not sure that I can make it.’ She said, ‘Of course you can make
+it. We can’t talk here. It doesn’t take ten minutes to get to
+the cottage. You’ve got to make it.’ He said, ‘All right, I’ll be
+there. Look out; someone’s coming.’ They both of them turned
+around, and I could hear him calling to someone in the hall to
+come in and look at the ship.</p>
+
+<p>“I stood there, leaning my head against the side of the house
+and feeling icy cold and deathly—deathly sick. It was as though
+I had heard Dan calling to me across thirty years.</p>
+
+<p>“From that moment until this one I have never known one
+happy hour, one happy moment, one happy second. I spent my
+life spying on him—on my Pat—trying to discover how far he
+had gone, how far he was prepared to go. I never caught them
+together again, in spite of the fact that I fairly haunted the
+terrace under the study window, thinking that some afternoon or
+evening they might return. They never did. Mimi didn’t come
+very often to the house, as a matter of fact.</p>
+
+<p>“But on the evening of the nineteenth of June, at a little after
+half-past six, someone did come to the study window, who gave
+me the clew that I had been seeking so long. It was Melanie
+Cordier, of course. I was just coming back from the garden,
+where I had been tying up some climbing roses, when I saw her
+there by the corner near the bookcase. She had a book in her
+hands—quite a large, thick book in a light tan cover, and she
+was looking back over her shoulder with a queer, furtive look
+while she put something in it. She shoved it back onto the shelf
+and was starting toward the hall, when she drew back suddenly
+and stood very quiet. I thought: ‘There is someone in the hall.
+When Melanie goes out it will mean that the coast is clear.’</p>
+
+<p>“It wasn’t more than a minute later that she left, and I
+started around to the front of the house to get to the study and
+see what she had put in that book. I was hurrying so that I
+almost ran into Elliot Farwell, who was coming down the front
+steps and not looking any more where he was going than if he
+had been stone blind. He said, ‘Beg pardon’ and brushed by me
+without even lowering his eyes to see who it was, and I went
+on across the hall into the study, thinking that never in my life
+had I seen a man look so wretchedly and recklessly unhappy.</p>
+
+<p>“No one was in the hall; they were all in the living room, and
+I could hear them all laughing and talking—and I decided that
+if I were to find what Melanie had put in the book I’d better
+do it quickly, as the party might break up at any minute. I had
+noticed just where the book was—on the third shelf close to the
+wall—but there were three volumes just alike, and that halted
+me for a minute.</p>
+
+<p>“The note was in the second volume that I opened. It was
+addressed to ‘Mr. Patrick Ives. Urgent—Very Urgent.’ I stood
+looking at that ‘Urgent—Very Urgent’ for a minute, and then
+I put it in the straw bag that I carry for gardening and went out
+through the dining room to the pantry to get myself a drink of
+water, because I felt a little faint.</p>
+
+<p>“No one was in the pantry. I let the water run for a minute
+so that it would get cold, and then I drank three glasses of it,
+quite slowly, until my hand stopped shaking and that queer
+dizzy feeling went away. Then I started back for the hall. I
+got as far as the dining room, when I saw Pat standing by the
+desk in the corner.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s a screen between the dining-room door and the
+study, but it doesn’t quite cut off the bit near the study window.
+I could see him perfectly clearly. He had quite a thick little
+pile of white papers in his hand, and he was counting them. They
+were long, narrow papers, folded just like the bond that he’d
+given me for Christmas, a year ago—just exactly like it. And
+while I was standing there staring at them, Sue called to him
+from the hall to come out on the porch and see his guests off,
+and he gave a little start and shoved the papers into the
+left-hand drawer and went out toward the hall.</p>
+
+<p>“I gave him a few seconds to get to the porch, before I crossed
+through the study. I was terrified that if he came back and
+found me there he’d know I had the note and accuse me of
+it—and I knew that when he did that all the life that I’d died
+twenty lives to build for us would crumble to pieces at the
+first word he spoke. I couldn’t bear to have Pat know that I
+suspected how base he was—that I knew that he was Dan all
+over again—a baser, viler Dan, since Dan had only had me to
+keep him straight, and Pat had Sue. I felt strong enough and
+desperate enough to face almost anything in the world except
+that Pat should know that I had found him out. So I went
+through the study and the hall and up the stairs to my room in
+the left wing without one backward look.</p>
+
+<p>“Once in my room, I locked the door and bolted it—and
+pushed a chair against it, too, to make assurance triply sure.
+That’s the only thing that I did that entire evening that makes
+me think I must have been a little mad. Still, even a biased
+observer could hardly regard that as homicidal madness.</p>
+
+<p>“I went over to the chintz wing chair by the window and read
+the note. The chair was placed so that even in my room I could
+see the roses in the garden, and a little beyond the garden, the
+sand pile under the copper beech where the children played.
+They weren’t there now; I’d said good-night to them outside
+just a minute or so before I finished tying up the roses. I read the
+note through three times.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course, I completely misread it. I thought that what she
+was proposing was an elopement with Pat to California. It never
+once entered my head that she was referring to money that
+would enable Steve and herself to live a pleasanter life in a
+pleasanter place, and that her talk of hoodwinking Steve simply
+meant that she could conceal the source of the money from him.</p>
+
+<p>“If I had realized that, I’d never have lifted my finger to
+prevent her getting it. I thought she wanted Pat. I’d have given
+her two hundred thousand dollars to go away and leave him
+alone. The most ghastly and ironical thing about this whole
+ironical and ghastly business is that if Mimi Bellamy hadn’t
+been as careless and slip-shod with her use of the word ‘we,’ as
+she was with everything else in her life, she would be alive this
+day under blue skies.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course it was stupid of me, too, and the first time that I
+read it I was bewildered by the lack of endearments in it. But
+there was all that about her hardly being able to wait, and how
+happy they would be; and the note was obviously hastily
+written—and I had always thought she had no depth of feeling. I
+suppose that all of us read into a letter much what we expect
+to find there, and what I expected to find was a twice-told tale.
+I expected to find that Pat was so mad about this girl that he
+was willing to wreck not only his own life for her but mine
+and Sue’s and Polly’s and Pete’s. And I couldn’t to save my
+soul think of a way to stop him.</p>
+
+<p>“I was reading it for the third time when Melanie knocked
+at the door and announced dinner, and I put it back in my bag
+and pushed back the chair and unlocked the door and went
+down.</p>
+
+<p>“When I heard Pat and Melanie and Sue all tell you that
+dinner was quite as usual that night, I wondered what strange
+stuff we weak mortals are made of. When I think what Sue
+was thinking and what Pat was thinking and what I was
+thinking, and that we could laugh and chat and breathe as usual—no,
+that doesn’t seem humanly possible. Yet that’s exactly what
+we did.</p>
+
+<p>“Afterward, when they went into the study to look at the
+ship, I decided that I might just as well go into the rose garden
+and finish the work that I’d started out there. I’d noticed some
+dead wood on two of the plants, so I went to the flower room
+and got out the little knife that I kept with some other small
+tools in a drawer there. It’s a very good one for either budding
+or pruning, but I keep it carefully put away for fear that the
+children might cut their fingers. Then I went out to the garden.</p>
+
+<p>“For a while I didn’t try to think at all: I just worked. I
+saw Miss Page coming back from the sand pile, and a minute
+or so later Sue came by, running toward the back gate. She
+called to me that she was going to the movies and that Pat was
+going to play poker. I was glad that they were not going to be
+there; that made it easier to think—and to breathe.</p>
+
+<p>“As you know, she returned to the house. I don’t believe she
+was there more than five minutes before she came running by
+again and disappeared through the back gate. I sat down on the
+little bench at the end of the rose garden and tried to think.</p>
+
+<p>“I was desperately anxious to keep my head and remain cool
+and collected, because one thing was perfectly clear. If
+something wasn’t done immediately, it would be too late to do
+anything. The question was what to do.</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t dare to go to Pat. At bottom, I must be a
+miserable coward; that was the simple, straightforward, and natural
+thing to do, and I simply didn’t dare to do it. Because I thought
+that he would refuse me, and that fact I couldn’t face. I was the
+person in all the world who should have had most trust in him,
+and I didn’t trust him at all. I remember that when I lie awake
+in the night. I didn’t trust him.</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t dare to go to Sue, either, because I was afraid that if
+she knew the truth—or what I was pleased to consider the
+truth—she would leave him, at any cost to Polly and Peter or
+herself. I knew that she was possessed of high pride and fine
+courage; I didn’t know that they would be chains to bind her to
+Pat. I didn’t trust her either.</p>
+
+<p>“It wasn’t Pat and Sue and Mimi Bellamy that I was looking
+at, you see. It was Dan and I and the boarding-house keeper’s
+Trudie.</p>
+
+<p>“I sat on the bench in the rose garden and watched the
+sunlight turning into shadow and felt panic rising about me like a
+cold wind. I knew that Sue hadn’t a cent; her father had left
+her nothing at all, and she had refused to let Pat settle a cent
+on her, because she said that she loved to ask him for money.</p>
+
+<p>“And I remembered . . . I remembered that Dan had taken
+nineteen dollars and fifty cents out of the tea-pot. I remembered
+that I had learned only a few weeks before that I could only
+hope at best for months instead of years to live. I remembered
+that Sue couldn’t cook at all, and that it was I who had done
+up all the children’s little dresses in those New York days
+because she couldn’t iron, and made them, because she couldn’t
+sew—and I wouldn’t be there. I remembered that the only
+relation that she had in the world was Douglas Thorne, and
+that he had four children and a wife who liked jewellery and
+who didn’t like Sue. I remembered that the massage for Pete’s
+knee cost twenty dollars a week, and that when Polly had had
+trouble with her ear last winter the bill for the nurses and the
+doctors and the operation had come to seven hundred and fifty
+dollars. I remembered the way Polly looked on the black pony
+and Pete’s voice singing in the sand pile. . . .</p>
+
+<p>“And then suddenly everything was perfectly clear. Mimi, of
+course—I’d forgotten her entirely. She was waiting in the
+gardener’s cottage now, probably, and if I went to her there and
+explained to her all about Polly and Pete, and how frightfully
+important it was that they should be taken care of until they
+could take care of themselves, she would realize what she was
+doing. She was so young and pretty and careless that she
+probably hadn’t ever given them a thought. It wasn’t cruelty—it was
+just a reckless desire to be happy. But once she knew—— I’d
+tell her all about Pat’s ghastly childhood and the nightmare
+that my own life had been, and I’d implore her to stop and
+think what she was doing. Once she had stopped—once she
+had thought—she wouldn’t do it, of course. I felt fifty years
+younger, and absolutely light-headed with relief.</p>
+
+<p>“I looked at my little wrist watch; it said ten minutes to nine.
+If I waited until nine it would be almost dark, and would
+still give me plenty of time to catch her before she left. It
+wouldn’t take me more than fifteen minutes to get to the
+cottage, and I much preferred not to have anyone know what I was
+planning to do. No one would miss me if I got back by ten; I
+often sat in the garden until then, and I had a little flashlight
+in the straw bag that I used at such times, and that would
+serve my purpose excellently coming home across the meadows.</p>
+
+<p>“I decided not to go back to the house at all, but simply to
+slip out by the little gate near the sand pile and strike out on the
+path that cut diagonally across the fields to the Thorne place.
+There were no houses between us and Orchards, so I would be
+perfectly safe from observation. By the time I had gathered up
+my gardening things and looked again at my watch it was a
+little after nine, and I decided that it wouldn’t be safe to wait
+any longer.</p>
+
+<p>“It was a very pleasant walk across the fields; it was still
+just light enough to see, and the clover smelled very sweet, and
+the tree toads were making a comforting little noise, and I
+walked quite fast, planning just what I would say to
+Mimi—planning just how reasonable and gentle and persuasive and
+convincing I was going to be.</p>
+
+<p>“The path comes out at an opening in the hedge to the left of
+the gardener’s cottage. I pushed through it and came up to the
+front steps; there was a light in the right-hand window. I went
+straight up the steps. The front door was open a little, and I
+pushed it open farther and went in. There was a key on the
+inside of the door. I hesitated for a moment, and then I closed
+it and turned the key and dropped it into my bag. I was afraid
+that she might try to leave before I’d finished explaining to
+her; I didn’t want her to do that.</p>
+
+<p>“She heard me then, and called out from the other room,
+‘For heaven’s sake, what’s been the matter? I didn’t think that
+you were ever coming.’</p>
+
+<p>“She had her back turned as I came into the room; she was
+looking into the mirror over the piano and fluffing out her hair.
+There was a lamp lit on the piano and it make her hair look like
+flames—she really was extraordinarily beautiful, if that
+red-and-white-and-gold-and-blue type appeals to you. Trudie’d had a
+mouth that curled just that way, and those same ridiculous
+eyelashes. And then she saw me in the mirror and in three seconds
+that radiant face turned into a mask of suspicion and cruelty
+and malice. She whirled around and stood there looking me
+over from head to foot.</p>
+
+<p>“After a moment she said, ‘What are you doing here?’</p>
+
+<p>“I said, ‘I came about Pat, Madeleine.’</p>
+
+<p>“She said, ‘Oh, you did, did you? So that’s his game—hiding
+behind a woman’s skirts! Well, you can go home and tell him
+to come out.’</p>
+
+<p>“I said, ‘He doesn’t know that I’m here. I found the note.’</p>
+
+<p>“Mimi said, ‘They can send you to jail for taking other
+people’s letters. Spying and stealing from your own son! I should
+think you’d be ashamed. And what good do you think it’s
+going to do you?’</p>
+
+<p>“I came closer to her and said, ‘Never mind me, Madeleine, I
+came here to-night to implore you to leave my son alone.’</p>
+
+<p>“And she laughed at me—she laughed! ‘Well, you could have
+saved yourself the walk. When he gets here, I’ll tell him what
+I think of the two of you.’</p>
+
+<p>“I said, ‘He’s not coming. He’s playing poker at the Dallases.’</p>
+
+<p>“She went scarlet to her throat with anger, and she called out,
+‘That’s a lie! He’s coming and you know it. Will you get out
+of here?’</p>
+
+<p>“I said, ‘Madeleine, listen to me. I swear to you that any
+happiness you purchase at the price that you’re willing to pay
+for it will rot in your hands, no matter how much you love
+him.’</p>
+
+<p>“And she laughed! ‘Love him? Pat? I don’t care two snaps
+of my fingers for him! But I’m going to get every cent of his
+that I can put my hands on, and the quicker both of you get
+that straight, the better it will be for all of us.’</p>
+
+<p>“I said, ‘I believe that is the truth, but I never believed that
+you would dare to say so. You can’t—you can’t realize what you
+are doing. You can’t purchase your pleasure with the comfort
+and security and health and joy of two little babies who have
+never harmed you once in all their lives. You can’t!’</p>
+
+<p>“She laughed that wicked, excited little laugh of hers again,
+and said through her teeth, ‘Oh, can’t I, though? Now get this
+straight too: I don’t care whether your precious little babies die
+in a gutter. Now, will you get out?’</p>
+
+<p>“I couldn’t breathe. I felt exactly as though I were
+suffocating, but I said, ‘No. I am an old woman, Madeleine, but I will
+go on my knees to you to beg you not to ruin the lives of those
+two babies.’</p>
+
+<p>“She said, ‘Oh, I’m sick to death of you and your babies and
+your melodramatics. For the last time, are you going to get out
+of this house or am I going to have to put you out?’</p>
+
+<p>“She came so close to me that I could smell the horrid
+perfume she wore—gardenia, I think it was—something close
+and sweet and hateful. I took a step back and said, ‘You
+wouldn’t dare to touch me—you wouldn’t dare!’</p>
+
+<p>“And then she did—she gave that dreadful, excited little
+laugh of hers and put both hands on my shoulders and pushed
+me, quite hard—so hard that I stumbled and went forward on
+my knees. I tried to catch myself, and dropped the bag and all
+the things in it fell out on the carpet. I knelt there staring down
+at them, with the blood roaring in my head and singing in my
+ears.</p>
+
+<p>“Judge Carver, what is it in our blood and bones and flesh
+that rises shrieking its outrage in the weakest and meekest of
+us at the touch of hands laid violently on our rebellious flesh?
+I could hear it—I could hear it crying in my ears—and there
+on the flowered carpet just in reach of my hand something was
+shining. It was the little knife that I’d been using to cut the
+dead wood out so that the live roses would grow better. I knelt
+there staring at it. That story of how all their lives flash by
+drowning eyes—I always thought that was an old wives’ tale—no,
+that’s true, I think. I could see the rose garden with all the
+green leaves glossy on the big Silver Moon. . . . I could see
+Pat and Sue laughing on the terrace, with his arm across her
+shoulders and the sun in their eyes and the wind in their hair. . . .
+I could see the children’s blue smocks through the branches
+of the copper beech. . . . I stood up with the knife in my
+hand. . . .</p>
+
+<p>“She screamed only once—not a very loud scream, either, but
+she caught at the table as she fell, and it made a dreadful crash.
+I heard someone laugh outside, quite loudly, and I leaned
+forward and blew out the lamp on the piano. There was someone
+coming up the front steps; I stood very still. A bell rang far
+back in the house, and then someone tried the door.</p>
+
+<p>“I thought: ‘This is the end—they have known what has
+happened. If no one answers, they will batter down the door.
+But not till they batter down the door will I move one
+hairbreadth from where I stand—and not then.’</p>
+
+<p>“After a moment I heard the feet going down the steps, then
+again on the gravel of the main drive, getting fainter and fainter.
+I waited for a moment longer, because I thought that I heard
+something moving in the bushes outside the window, but after
+a minute everything was perfectly still, and I went over to the
+window and shut it and pulled down the shade.</p>
+
+<p>“I knew that I was in great danger, and that I must think
+very quickly—and act quickly too. I found the little flashlight
+almost immediately, and lit it, and pushed down the catch and
+put it beside me on the floor. I wanted to have both hands free,
+and I didn’t dare to take the time to light the lamp. I was
+afraid that the person who tried the door would come back. I
+had realized at once, of course, that if I took the jewels the
+murder would look like robbery—and I had to make sure that
+she was dead.</p>
+
+<p>“That took only a minute; the rings came off quite easily, but
+the catch of the necklace caught, and I had to break the string.
+I knotted the things all into my handkerchief and put them into
+the bag, and the trowel and a ball of string that had fallen out,
+too, and the note, and a little silver box of candy that I kept for
+the children. There was the key to the front door too. I
+remembered that I must leave it in the lock as I went out. I used the
+flashlight to make sure that I wasn’t leaving anything, and I
+was—the knife was still lying there beside her.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s curious—of all the things that happened that night,
+that’s the only one that I can’t account for. I don’t remember
+how it got there at all—whether I placed it there or whether
+I dropped it or whether it fell—that’s curious, don’t you think?
+Anyhow, I picked it up and wiped it off very carefully on one
+of her white lace frills and put it back in the bag. And then I
+tried to get up, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move. I knelt there,
+leaning forward against the cold steel of the little Franklin
+stove, feeling so mortally, so desperately sick that for a moment
+I thought I should never move again. It wasn’t the blood; it was
+that perfume, like dead flowers—horribly sweet and strong. . . .
+After a minute I got up and went out of the room and out
+of the house and back across the meadow to the garden
+gate.</p>
+
+<p>“I stopped only once. I followed the hedge a little way before
+I came to the path, and I stooped down and dug out two or
+three trowelfuls of earth close in to the roots and shook the
+pearls and the rings out of my handkerchief into the hole and
+covered it up and went on. At first I thought of putting the
+knife there, too, and then I decided that someone might have
+noticed it in the drawer and that it would be safer to be put
+back where it had come from.</p>
+
+<p>“How are they ever able to trace people by the weapons they
+have used? It seems to me that it should be so simple to hide a
+little thing no longer than your hand, with all the earth and
+the waters under the earth to hide it in.</p>
+
+<p>“It was the knife that I was washing in the flower room; it
+still had one or two little stains near the handle, but there wasn’t
+any blood on my hands at all. I’d been very careful.</p>
+
+<p>“After I’d put everything away I took the note and went
+upstairs. At first I thought that I’d tear it up, but then I
+decided that someone might find the scraps, and that the safest
+thing to do would be to keep it until the next day and burn it.
+And before the next day I knew that Sue and Stephen had no
+actual alibi for that night, and so I never burned the note.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s all. While I lay there in the dark that night—and
+every night since—I’ve tried saying it over and over to myself:
+‘Murderess—murderess.’ A black and bloody and dreadful
+word; does it sound as alien to the ears of all the others whose
+title it is as it does to mine? Murderess! We should feel
+differently from the rest of the world once we have earned that
+dreadful title, should we not? Something sinister, something
+monstrous and dark should invest us, surely. It seems strange that
+still we who bear that name should rise to the old familiar
+sunlight and sleep by the old familiar starlight; that bread should
+still be good to us, and flowers sweet; that we should say
+good-morning and good-night in voices that no man shudders
+to hear. The strangest thing of all is to feel so little strange.</p>
+
+<p>“Judge Carver, I have written to you because I do not
+know whether any taint of suspicion still clings to any of those
+who have taken part in this trial. If in your mind there does, I
+will promptly give myself up to the proper authorities and tell
+them the essential facts that I have told you.</p>
+
+<p>“But if, in your opinion, suspicion rests on no man or woman,
+living or dead, I would say only this: I am not afraid to die—indeed,
+indeed, I am rather anxious to die. Life is no longer very
+dear to me. Two physicians have told me this last year that I
+will not live to see another. I can obtain from them a
+certificate to that effect, if you desire. And I have already sent to my
+lawyers a sealed envelope containing a full confession, marked,
+‘To be sent to the authorities in case anyone should be accused
+of the death of Mrs. Stephen Bellamy, either before or after my
+death.’ I would not have any human being live through such
+days as these have been—no, not to save my life, or what is
+dearer to me than my life.</p>
+
+<p>“But, Judge Carver, will the ends of justice be better served
+if that boy who believes that my only creed is gentleness and
+kindness and mercy, and who has learned therefore to be
+merciful and gentle and kind—if that boy learns that now he must
+call me murderess? If those happy, happy little children who
+bring every bumped head and cut finger to me to kiss it and
+make it whole must live to learn to call me murderess?</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t want Polly and Pete to know—I don’t want them
+to know—I don’t want them to know.</p>
+
+<p>“If you could reach me without touching them I would not
+ask you to show me mercy. But if no one else need suffer for
+my silence, I beg of you—I beg you—forget that you are only
+Justice, and remember to be merciful.</p>
+
+<p class="signature">“Margaret Ives.”</p>
+
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>For a long time the judge sat silent and motionless, staring
+down at that small mountain of white pages. In his tired face
+his dark eyes burned, piercing and tireless. Finally they moved,
+with a curious deliberation, to that other pile of white pages
+that he had been studying when the messenger boy had come
+knocking at the door. Yes, there it was:</p>
+
+<p>“An accessory after the fact is one who while not actually
+participating in the crime, yet in any way helps the murderer to
+escape trial or conviction, either by concealing him or by
+assisting him to escape or by destroying material evidence or by
+any other means whatever. It is a serious crime in itself, but
+does not make him a principal——”</p>
+
+<p>He sat motionless, his unwavering eyes fixed on the words
+before him as though he would get them by heart. . . . After a
+long moment, he stirred, lifted his head, and drew the little pile
+of papers that held the life of Patrick Ives’s mother toward him.</p>
+
+<p>The blue paper first; the torn scraps settled down on the
+shining surface as lightly and inconsequently as butterflies. Then
+the white ones—a little mound of snow-flakes that grew under
+the quick, sure fingers to a little mountain—higher—higher—blue
+and white, they were swept into that great brass bowl that
+had been so conveniently designed for ashes. A match spurted,
+and little flames leaped gaily, and a small spiral of smoke twisted
+up toward the white-robed lady above the door. Across the
+room, between the windows beyond which shone the stars, John
+Marshall was smiling above the dancing flames—and she smiled
+back at him, gravely and wisely, as though they shared some
+secret understanding.</p>
+
+<p class="finis">The End</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="section" id="transcriber">
+
+<h2>Transcriber’s Note</h2>
+
+<p>This transcription follows the text of the edition published by
+Doubleday, Page &amp; Company in 1927. The following changes have been
+made to correct what are believed to be unambiguous printer’s
+errors.</p>
+
+<ul>
+  <li>“thought there there” was changed to “thought that there” 
+      (Chapter II).</li>
+  <li>“nineteeth” was changed to “nineteenth” (Chapter II).</li>
+  <li>“played around” was changed to “played a round” (Chapter III).</li>
+  <li>“How any” was changed to “How many” (Chapter IV).</li>
+  <li>“Pott’s” was changed to “Potts’s” (Chapter IV).</li>
+  <li>“dissertion” was changed to “dissertation” (Chapter V).</li>
+  <li>“paino” was changed to “piano” (Chapter V).</li>
+  <li>“continuue” was changed to “continue” (Chapter V).</li>
+  <li>“inobstrusive” was changed to “inobtrusive” (Chapter V).</li>
+  <li>“indentification” was changed to “identification” (Chapter V).</li>
+  <li>“where the switch it” was changed to “where the switch is”
+      (Chapter VII).</li>
+  <li>“coutenances” was changed to “countenances” (Chapter VII).</li>
+  <li>“staightforward” was changed to “straightforward” (Chapter VII).</li>
+  <li>“Belamy” was changed to “Bellamy” (Chapter VII).</li>
+  <li>“that that of” was changed to “than that of” (Chapter VII).</li>
+  <li>“witheld” was changed to “withheld” (Chapter VII).</li>
+  <li>“fiance” was changed to “fiancé” (Chapter VIII).</li>
+  <li>“certicate” was changed to “certificate” (Chapter VIII).</li>
+  <li>A comma at the end of a sentence has been corrected to a period.</li>
+  <li>Seven occurrences of mismatched quotation marks have been repaired.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<p>Finally, there is a passage in Chapter II that reads “and Mrs. Bellamy
+said”, but in context this is impossible and it is obvious that Mrs.
+Ives is the one speaking. The passage has therefore been changed to
+“and Mrs. Ives said”.</p>
+
+<p>All other seeming errors in the original text have been left
+unchanged.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75325 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
+
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author	nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org>	2025-02-08 16:21:03 -0800
committer	nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org>	2025-02-08 16:21:03 -0800
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