“Well, no. I didn’t see her shoot him.”
“Then you don’t know of your own knowledge that she fired either one of the shots, do you?”
“Well, I guess that when a woman...?”
“Of your own knowledge,” Mason interrupted. “You don’t know, do you?”
“I don’t know absolutely, no.”
“Now then,” Mason said, “let’s check up for a moment on the manner in which you were dressed at the time.” He walked over to the table where his briefcase was reposing, took from it a photograph, offered it to Scudder for inspection and then passed it to the witness. “I show you what purports to be a flashlight photograph of a group in evening clothes, and in which you are standing the second from the left. Is that the dress you wore on the night in question?”
“Why... yes,” she said, staring at the picture. “I remember when that picture was taken, but I didn’t have any idea...”
“Save only and solely for a beret and a raincoat, that’s exactly the way you appeared when you were on the deck at the time Mr. and Mrs. Newberry walked past you?”
“Why... yes, I guess so.”
“And that photograph shows you exactly as you were at the time of the captain’s dinner?”