“Nearer twelve miles, I believe.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bellamy; that will be all. Cross-examine.”
Mr. Farr arrived in the center of the arena where sat his victim, pale and patient, with a motion so sudden that it suggested a leap. Not once had he lifted his voice during that long, laboriously retrieved narration. Now the courtroom was once more filled with its metallic clang, arresting and disturbing.
“Mr. Bellamy, you’ve told us that the tools in the garage belonged to Orsini. They were perfectly accessible to anyone else, weren’t they?”
“Perfectly.”
“Was Mrs. Bellamy in the garage at any time before you left?”
“Why, yes, I believe that she was. I remember meeting her as she came into the house just as I came downstairs to dinner—I’d gone up to wash my hands. She said she’d been out to the garage to see whether she’d left a package with some aspirin and other things from the drug store in the car. They weren’t there, and she asked me to call up the club the next day to see whether she had left them there.”
“So that she would have been perfectly able to have made that incision of that tire herself?”
“I should think so.”
“She did not at any time suggest that you accompany her either to the movies or the Conroys, did she?”