“Yes, he said somebody had set a trap for him.”
“Set a trap for him! What did he mean?”
“How do I know what he meant? I ain’t a mind-reader! I tell you what he said,—I can’t make up a meanin’ for it too. And I ain’t got a right to tell this much. I don’t want to get nobody in trouble.”
The girl was almost in tears now, but whether the sympathy was for herself or another was an open question.
“You have heard, Miss Wilkinson, of testimony that means to be true, but is—er—inexact.” The coroner smiled a trifle, as if thus atoning for his own late slip. “Therefore, I beg that you will do your utmost to remember exactly what that message was.”
“I do, ’cause I thought it was such a funny one. The man said, ‘you’d better come, he’s set a trap for you.’ And Mr. Trowbridge says ‘I can’t go today, I’ve got an engagement’ And the other man said, ‘Oh, c’mon. It’s a lovely day, and I’ll give you some stephanotis.’”
“Stephanotis!”
“Yes, sir, I remembered that, ’cause it’s my fav’rite puffume.”
“Was Mr. Trowbridge in the habit of using perfumery?” asked Berg of Avice.
“Never,” she replied, looking at the blonde witness with scorn.