A. “Yes, I thought it odd. But I knew Miss Ballau was under mental stress.”
Q. “What sort of mental stress?”
A. “She had been distracted in the morning when we rode in a cab together and I asked her to marry me. She had told me about her father. She was worried over him and she had complained of a headache.”
Simple lies, establishing nothing. De Medici glanced at his hands. Would they ask him about the blood on his fingers?
Q. “Do you think that Mr. Ballau committed suicide, from what you saw that night?”
A. “No.”
Q. “Then it is your opinion that Mr. Ballau was murdered?”
A. “Yes.”
De Medici waited while the coroner made notes with a pencil. Curious that he should make notes at that moment. And why had they asked him for his opinion? They had asked none of the others. Norton again. Yes, it was Norton. The coroner with his pompous words and heavy manner was a blind. It was the reddish-faced man beside him who was operating the web ... spinning it out carefully and invisibly. Well, he would cross weapons with the man.
“I must find out what the fellow is,” mused De Medici behind the attentive poise of his face.