“I beg your pardon. I should not have said that.”
“What is it you wish to add?”
“Simply that the fact of the conversation that day had actually slipped my memory till my solicitor, about a fortnight ago, told me of Miss Prince’s admission as to her possession of arsenic.”
Sir Almeric moves some of the papers he is holding in one of his hands to the other hand, and then he asks in almost a casual tone:
“I suppose I may take it that you were exceedingly surprised when you learned that your wife had died from the administration of an enormous dose of arsenic?”
The prisoner stares at him. Then he answers quickly:
“I was more than surprised, I was astounded.”
At that Sir Almeric Post straightens himself.
“And yet you ask the jury to believe that while the whole village was ringing with the question as to where the poison administered to Mrs. Garlett could have come from, you had forgotten the all-important fact that there was a large supply of arsenic within a few yards of your front door?”
Henry Garlett looks manifestly troubled. For a few moments he loses that air of calm, quiet, rigid self-control.