For a moment he was nonplussed, and then he asked: "You heard Mr. Orton say it was a love-letter written to you by Mrs. Darwin?"
"Oh, yes, but I didn't hear you ask him how he knew this. No, nor did I hear him tell you that he fished the torn scraps of Mrs. Darwin's private correspondence from her basket and pieced it together for her husband's delectation," I replied, scornfully, glad of the chance to let the jury know the truth concerning that letter.
I saw the look of disgust with which various of the members of the jury favored Orton, and even the coroner was impressed to the point of laying the letter aside and resuming his attack upon a different line.
"When you sent Mrs. Darwin into the study you were both aware, of course, of Mr. Darwin's presence in that room?"
"No. Mr. Darwin had told his wife he was going out and we had no idea there was anyone in the study."
"But finding him there unexpectedly might she not have shot him to secure the letter?" pursued the relentless voice.
I shook my head and replied abruptly (I have learned since that he had no right to ask that question, but I had no knowledge of legal technicalities): "Impossible. She was in the study only a minute before the shot was fired. This I am positive of, Mr. Orton's evidence to the contrary. She had left the door slightly ajar and I remember listening for sounds from the study just before the clock struck twelve. I heard no voices. Besides, the study was in total darkness——"
"You are sure the study was in darkness?" he interrupted with an odd look.
"Yes, I think I can safely say it was."
"It has been proven that Mr. Darwin was writing just before he was shot. Do you think he was in the habit of writing in the dark?" he inquired sarcastically.