"Yes. We've had all that twice before," Dundee interrupted cruelly. "Now, Judge Marshall—"
"One of my friends gave me a lift from town," Judge Marshall volunteered pompously. "Chap named Sampson. You may have heard of him—fine fellow, splendid lawyer. We played billiards together at the Athletic Club, and when I was about to call a taxi—my wife having the car here—he offered to drop me here on his way to the Country Club.... N-no, I don't remember the exact time, did not consult my watch."
"You came directly from the road into the house, Judge Marshall?"
"Certainly, sir!"
"Did you—er, see anyone?"
"You mean, sir, did anyone see me?" Judge Marshall demanded with pompous indignation. "No, no one, sir! If my word is not good enough for you, you can think what you damned please!"
"I think we are all getting a little too tired, Mr. Dundee," Penny Crain suggested, almost humble in her weariness.
"I'm truly sorry," the young detective apologized. "But I can't leave things like this ... Mr. Drake, you have said you walked over from the Country Club. You must have approached the house from the driveway side, the side of the house which contains Mrs. Selim's bedroom.... Is that right?"
"More or less, except that I skirted the house rather widely and arrived from the road, stepping upon the front porch, and walking directly into the hall. I saw no one outside or near the house when I arrived," Drake answered, with less than his usual nastiness.
"And saw no one running away across the meadows?" Dundee pressed.