“No.”
“That’s all, Mr. Thorne. Cross-examine.”
Mr. Lambert approached the witness box at almost a prance, his broad countenance smouldering with ill-concealed excitement. “Mr. Thorne, I’ll trouble you with only two questions. My distinguished adversary has asked you whether you noticed anything unusual in the neighbourhood of the cottage. I ask you whether in that vicinity you saw at any time a car—an automobile?”
“I saw no sign of a car.”
“No sign of a small Chevrolet, for instance—of Mr. Bellamy’s, for instance?”
“No sign of any car at all.”
“Thank you, Mr. Thorne. That will be all.”
Over Mr. Lambert’s exultant carol rose a soft tumult of whispers. “There goes the state’s story!” “Score 100 for the defense!” “Oh, boy, did you get that? He’s fixed the time of the murder and run Sue and Steve off the scene all in one move.” “The hand is quicker than the eye.” “Look at Farr’s face; that boy’s got a mean eye——”
“Silence!” sang Ben Potts.
The prosecutor advanced to within six inches of the witness box, his eyes contracted to pin points. “You assure us that you saw no car, Mr. Thorne?”