“You knew him in a business way?”
“More in a social way. We had few business dealings.”
“Ah!” The coroner seemed to be studying the pattern of the rugs. “The inquiry of the other day showed you and he from the same city. I suppose you moved largely in the same circle. Belonged to the same clubs, and all that? Mr. Pescini, was Nealman a frequent visitor to your house?”
The witness seemed to stiffen. The coroner leaned forward in his chair.
“He came quite often,” the former replied quietly. “He was a rather frequent dinner guest. He and I liked to talk over various subjects.”
“You will pardon me, Mr. Pescini, if I have to venture into personal subjects—subjects that will be unpleasant for you to discuss. This inquiry, however, takes the place of a formal inquest. Two men have disappeared. It is the duty of the state, whose representative I am, to spare no man’s sensibilities in finding out the truth. We’ve got to get down to cases. You understand that, I suppose.”
“Perfectly.” Pescini leaned back, folding his hands. “Perfectly,” he said again.
“I believe you recently filed and won a suit for divorce against your wife, Marie Pescini. Isn’t this true?”
The witness nodded. None of us heard him speak.