She read down the two sheets of bold, clear handwriting.
“Yes,” she said, “that is exactly what I have said.”
She was surprised that he had put it all down so fairly, so truthfully.
“If you wish to modify or alter anything I have written down here, I will come and take any fresh statement you may wish to make. You understand that perjury is a most serious criminal offence?”
CHAPTER XIII
On the arrest of a man for murder he is taken before the magistrates at the earliest possible opportunity, but only to be formally charged—that is, evidence of arrest is given, and a remand, generally for a week, is asked for and obtained.
During that long week Dr. Maclean was the least unhappy of the unhappy inmates of Bonnie Doon because he was forced to follow his profession. The fact that Harry Garlett—it was taken as a fact—had poisoned his wife for love of Jean Bower did not prevent men and women in the neighbourhood falling ill and sending for the doctor. Indeed, quite a number of his old patients suddenly developed some kind of slight complaint in order that he or she might have the intense satisfaction of a short talk with Jean Bower’s uncle.
At first Dr. Maclean had keenly resented these strange manifestations of inquisitive human nature, and he dreaded the questions which he knew would be put to him. But after two or three days he became quite accustomed to the usual opening:
“Dr. Maclean, I hope you won’t be offended if I say how very, very sorry I feel for you and for Mrs. Maclean over this terrible Garlett business. I hardly like to ask you what you really think about Harry Garlett, but you and I are such old friends I’m sure you won’t mind my asking?”
From the first he had taken up a line to which he steadfastly adhered: “I should much like to tell you my theories—but if I am to be a witness next week, when Mr. Garlett is brought up before the magistrates, it would not only be unprofessional but very wrong for me to say anything at all to you about the case.”