“At what time did you put the note there?”
“Maybe fifteen minutes before seven, maybe twenty. After half-past six, I know, and not yet seven.”
“Was that your usual habit?”
“Oh, no, monsieur; it was my habit to put them there in the night, when I make dark the house. Half-past six, that was a very bad time, because quite easily someone might see.”
“Then why did you choose that time, Miss Cordier?”
“Oh, but I do not choose. You see, it was like this: That night, when MacDonald, the chauffeur, bring in the letters a little bit after six, this one it was there for me, in a envelope that was write on it Urgent. On the little envelope inside it say Urgent—Very Urgent in letters with lines under them most black, and so I know that there is great haste that Mr. Patrick Ives he should get that letter quick. So I start to go to the study, but there in the hall is all those people who have come from the club, and Mrs. Ives she send me quick to get some canapés, and Mr. Dallas he come with me to show me what he want for the cocktails—limes and honey and all those thing, you know.” She looked appealingly at the prosecutor from the long black eyes and for a moment his tense countenance relaxed into a grim smile.
“You were about to tell us why you placed the note there at that time.”
“Yes; that is what I tell. Well, I wait and I wait for those people to go home, and still they do not go, but I dare not go in so long as across the hall from the study they all stay in that living room. But after a while I cannot wait any longer for fear that Mr. Patrick Ives should come and not find that most urgent note. So very quiet I slip in when I think no one look, and I put that note quick, quick in the book, and I start to come out in the hall; but when I get to the door I see there is someone in the hall and I step back again to wait till they are gone.”
“And whom did you see in the hall, Miss Cordier?”
“I see in the hall Mr. Elliot Farwell and Mrs. Patrick Ives.”