"Certainly—unquestionably," and Goldberg nodded to my chief. "I turn the witness over to you, Mr. Royce," he said.
"Now, Mr. Rogers," began our junior impressively, "you know, of course, that this whole case hinges, at present, on your identification of the woman who, presumably, was in Mr. Holladay's office when he was stabbed. I want to be very sure of that identification. Will you tell me how she was dressed?"
The witness paused for a moment's thought.
"She wore a dress of very dark red," he said at last, "with some sort of narrow dark trimming—black, possibly. That's all I can tell you about it."
"And the hat?"
"I didn't notice the hat, sir. I only glanced at her."
"But in that glance, Mr. Rogers, did you see nothing unusual—nothing which suggested to your mind that possibly it might not be Miss Holladay?"
"Nothing, sir."
"Some change of demeanor, perhaps; of expression?"
The witness hesitated.