“And you saw this young man give the young woman a gun?” Scanlon asked.
“Yes, sir, I saw him hand her a gun. She opened the drawer in the desk and pushed it down in behind the drawer, then closed the drawer.”
“Who was this man?”
“That man sitting right there. The one in the blue suit.”
“You mean James Driscoll?... Stand up, Mr. James Driscoll... Is that the man, Mrs. Anderson?”
“Yes — that is, he’s the man I saw running out of the Prescott house right after the accident, and he looks just like the man I saw with the gun. You see, those windows have very thin lace curtains behind them, and you can’t see quite as clearly as if they weren’t there. Not quite, but pretty near. I’m pretty positive that man I saw with the gun was this young man, James Driscoll.”
“Now, who was this woman?”
She faced him frankly and said, “I don’t know. I thought it was Rosalind Prescott. But later on, Rita Swaine appeared at the window wearing exactly that same dress, and trying to make me think—”
“Never mind what she tried to make you think,” the coroner said. “Just tell what you saw.”
Mrs. Anderson pressed her lips tightly together and said, “Well, I have my own opinion.”