“No objection,” said Mr. Farr, with commendable promptness, rallying a voice that sounded curiously flat. “It has been the object—and the sole object—of the state throughout this case to get at the truth. It is entirely willing to waive technicalities wherever possible in order that that end may be obtained. . . . No objection.”
“You may proceed, Mr. Phipps.”
“Mr. Bellamy was saying, ‘It makes no difference how innocent we are. If it were ever known that we were in that room tonight, you couldn’t get one person in the world to believe that we weren’t guilty, much less twelve. I’ve got to get you home. Get into the car.’ And they got into the car and drove off.”
“And then, Mr. Phipps?”
“And then, sir, I said to Miss Dunne, ‘Sally, that sounds like the voice of prophecy to me. If no one would believe that they were innocent, no one would believe that we are. Never mind the lunch box; I’m going to get you home too.’ ”
“You were aware that a murder had been committed?”
“A murder? Oh, not for one moment!” The quiet voice was suddenly vehement in its protest. “Not for one single moment! I thought simply that for some inexplicable reason Mr. Bellamy and Mrs. Ives had been almost suicidally indiscreet and had fortunately become aware of it at the last moment. It brought my own most culpable indiscretion all too vividly home to me, and I therefore proceeded to escort Miss Dunne back to her home, where I left her.”
“Yes—exactly. Now, Mr. Phipps, just one or two questions more. On your first visit to the cottage, when you heard the woman’s voice cry, ‘Don’t dare to touch me,’ both the front and the rear of the cottage were under your observation, were they not?”
“At different times—yes.”
“Would it have been possible for an automobile to be at any spot near the cottage while you were there without your attention being drawn to the fact?”