“What made you so sure that it was Mrs. Ives who took the note, not Mr. Farwell?”
“Because, when I hear the door close, then I know that Mr. Farwell he has gone.”
“And how did you know that?”
Once more Miss Cordier raised eloquent shoulders. “Because, monsieur, I am not stupid. I look out, he is standing by the hat stand; I go back, I hear a door close, I look out once more, and he is not there. But that is of the most elementary.”
“You should be a detective instead of wasting your time waiting on tables,” commented her courtly interrogator. “The plain truth is, isn’t it, that anyone in the house might have gone out and closed that door while Mr. Farwell went back to the living room with Mrs. Ives?”
“If you say so, monsieur,” replied Miss Cordier indifferently.
“And the plain truth is that Mr. Farwell was frantically infatuated with Mrs. Bellamy and was spying on her constantly, isn’t it?”
“It is possible.”
“Possible! Mr. Farwell himself stated it half a dozen times from this very witness box. It’s a plain fact. And another plain fact is that any one of a dozen other people might have passed through the hall and seen you at work, mightn’t they?”
“I should not believe so—no, monsieur.”