“I dashed into the social hall and telephoned the operator to tell the bridge there was a man overboard.”
“Didn’t you tell the operator that a man had been pushed overboard?”
Della Street hesitated, wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, and said, “Yes, I think I did.”
“And your best recollection is that the man was pushed overboard?”
“Perhaps he was, yes.”
“Could you recognize the man who went overboard as Mr. Moar?”
“No.”
“Could you recognize the woman who shot him and pushed him overboard as Mrs. Moar?”
“No.”
“Did you,” Scudder demanded, pointing a finger at her, “see anything about the figure of the woman who shot this man and pushed the body overboard which would enable you to swear it was not Mrs. Moar?”