“Was that just before his wife’s death?”
“Well, ’twas perhaps a fortnight before she died. I can’t say exactly. Miss Cheale had already gone upstairs, and Mr. Garlett had rung for more port wine, and it was as I came into the dining room that I heard him say that.”
“Dear me, that’s very interesting.”
“You won’t let on I’ve told you that, ma’am?” asked Lucy earnestly. “Mother’s fearful lest I be mixed up in it all. She was once called to an inquest and never forgot it. It made her ill for months afterward, that it did—she was so terrified. Those lawyers ’ud get anything out of you. They make you say black’s white—and white’s black.”
“I don’t think there’s the slightest reason to fear that you will be called as a witness,” said Miss Prince coldly, “and in any case, if you were called, it would be your duty to attend, Lucy. Surely you would think it a duty to speak up and tell the truth?”
And then Lucy, emboldened by Miss Prince’s benignant mood, ventured a question.
“Will you be a witness, ma’am?”
“I? Certainly not! Why should I be?” Miss Prince looked disturbed—she even flushed a little. “Miss Cheale will be a witness for the Prosecution, for she was with poor Mrs. Garlett when she died.”
And then Lucy said in a singular tone:
“Miss Cheale will be sorry if Mr. Garlett is hanged. She was such a friend of his.”