“Because I want to see whether a note I put there that afternoon still was there.”
“And was that note still there, Miss Cordier?”
“No, monsieur, that note, it was gone.”
The prosecutor tossed the impressive volume carelessly on to the clerk’s desk. “I offer this volume in evidence, Your Honour.”
“Any objections?” Judge Carver turned an inquiring eye on the bulky figure of Dudley Lambert, hovering uncertainly over the buckram-clad repository of correspondence.
Mr. Lambert, shifting from one foot to the other, eyed the volume as though he were endeavouring to decide whether it were an infernal machine or a jewel casket, and with one final convulsive effort arrived at a conclusion: “No objection.”
“Miss Cordier, to whom was the note that you placed in the book addressed?”
“It was addressed to Mr. Patrick Ives.”
“Was it written by you?”
“Ah, no, no, monsieur.”