“I thought of that. But then, as I’ve said, it’s a long row he hoes and I’m looking for a short one. There, Belknap, I guess that tells the tale in brief, doesn’t it?”
“No, not altogether, Judge. There is a point on which I need to be enlightened, with a bright, bright light. Where do I come in?”
“I thought I had made that clear. You are here to find good sport, but to be a spoil-sport.”
“I don’t mean that, Whittaker.”
“You mean the Diary—why, man alive, it makes something like a hero of you. My admiration is written all over it. Perhaps it shouldn’t be. Have you committed murder?”
Belknap laughed. “It’s not the time to admit it exactly, is it?”
A silence fell between them. Belknap broke it with another question.
“When do you spring it?”
“I thought I might bring it up at dinner. Unobtrusively. Casualness will at first bewilder them. The horror of the situation will dawn on them gradually.”
“Has anyone an inkling?”