“Did you tell your wife of the events of the night?”
“No. I told my wife that I had spent the night in New York with an old classmate and gone to the theatre.”
“That was not the truth, was it, Mr. Phipps?” inquired the prosecutor regretfully.
“That was a falsehood,” said Mr. Phipps, his eyes on his locked hands.
Mr. Farr waited a moment to permit this indubitable fact to sink in. When he spoke again, his voice was brisker than it had been in some time. “How did you recognize Mr. Bellamy and Mrs. Ives, Mr. Phipps?”
“They were standing in the circle of light cast by their headlights. I could see them very distinctly.”
“No, I mean where had you seen them before.”
“Oh, I had seen them quite frequently before. Mrs. Ives I saw often when she was Miss Thorne and I was tutoring at Orchards, and I had seen her several times since as well. Indeed, I had been in her own house on two occasions in regard to some welfare work that the school was backing.”
“You were aware then that Mrs. Ives was a very wealthy woman?”
Mr. Phipps looked at him wonderingly. “Aware? I knew of course that——”