“Well, what of it?” Farwell’s jaw was jutting dangerously.
“Be good enough to answer my question, Mr. Farwell.”
“All right, three or four after I came off the links.”
“And three or four before you started?”
“I don’t remember how many; we all had something at lunch.”
“You had had too many, hadn’t you, Mr. Farwell?”
“Too many for what?”
“Too many for Mimi Bellamy’s good, let us say.” Mr. Lambert caught a menacing movement from the chair occupied by the prosecutor and hurried on: “Would you have been quite so explicit to Mrs. Ives if you had not had those drinks?”
“I don’t know whether I would or not.” The little beads of sweat on the low forehead were suddenly larger. “I’d been thinking for quite a while that she ought to know what was going on.”
“I see. And just what did you think was to be gained by her knowledge?”