The dainty chin tilted in indignation. “Mr. Martin,” Olive said, “I cannot believe that my personal feelings are of interest to you. I understand I am here to be questioned as to my knowledge of facts bearing on this case.”
The Chief nodded his head. “That’s all right,” he said, “but I must learn all I can of Mr. Gately’s life outside his bank as well as in it. If you won’t give me information I must get it elsewhere.”
The implied threat worked.
“I do indeed sorrow at Mr. Gately’s tragic fate,” Olive said, gently. “To be sure, he was not my kin, but I admired and deeply respected him. If I did not deeply love him it was his own fault. He was most strict and tyrannical in his household, and his lightest word was law. I was willing enough to obey in many matters, but it annoyed and irritated me when he interfered with my simplest occupations or pleasures. He permitted me very little company or amusement; he forbade many of my friends the house; and he persistently refused to let me accept attentions from men, unless they were certain ones whom he preferred, and—whom I did not always favor.”
“Did he favor Amory Manning?” was the next abrupt question.
Olive’s cheeks turned a soft pink, but she replied calmly. “Not especially, though he had not forbidden Mr. Manning the house. Why do you ask that?”
“Had you noticed anything unusual lately about Mr. Gately? Any nervousness or apprehension of danger?”
“Not in the least. He was of a most equable temperament, and there has been no change of late.”
“When did you last see him—alive?”
“Yesterday afternoon. I went to his office to get some money.”