“I don’t want you to,” Driscoll said vehemently. “I have counsel of my own, in whom I have more confidence — a lawyer whose professional manner is far more dignified than yours.”
Mason appraised him judicially. “Yes, you would fall for a dignified manner, proper clothes, a big mahogany desk, and the usual background of hokum. All right, that’s settled. You have your lawyer. I’m Rosalind Prescott’s lawyer. Now, do you want to say anything?”
“Of course I want to say something.”
“Go ahead,” Mason told him. “Say it.”
“I want to corroborate Rosalind’s statement in every way.”
Mason stared at him with cold eyes. “Did you kill Walter Prescott?” he asked.
“Of course not. I didn’t know anything about it.”
“Did you see Walter Prescott while you were in the house?”
“No. I was with Rosalind all of the time.”
“All of the time?” Mason asked.