“And needed none.”
“When was this visit paid, Mr. Jeffrey? Before or after your wife pulled the trigger which ended her life? You need not hesitate to answer.”
“I do not.” The elegant gentleman before us had acquired a certain fierceness. “Why should I? Certainly, you don’t think that I was there at the same time she was. It was not on the same night, even. So much the walls should have told you and probably did, or my wife’s uncle, Mr. David Moore. Was he not your informant?”
“No; Mr. Moore has failed to call our attention to this fact. Did you meet Mr. Moore during the course of your visit to a neighborhood over which he seems to hold absolute sway?”
“Not to my knowledge. But his house is directly opposite, and as he has little to do but amuse himself with what he can see from his front window, I concluded that he might have observed me going in.”
“You entered by the front door, then?”
“How else?”
“And on what night?”
Mr. Jeffrey made an effort. These questions were visibly harassing him.
“The night before the one—the one which ended all my earthly happiness,” he added in a low voice.