If her voice held a tinge of bitterness who can blame her?
"As you saw fit, since his murder gives it all to you," continued the irrepressible juror.
"Your honor, I protest against such insinuations," I cried, for Cunningham seemed to have fallen asleep.
"I don't understand you," faltered Ruth, her eyes growing dark as they traveled over the stern, set faces of the jury. Then her hand fluttered involuntarily to her throat. "I don't understand you," she said again.
As the juror opened his mouth to reply, the coroner silenced him with a gesture. "Kindly permit me to conduct this investigation," he said curtly, then to Ruth, "Mrs. Darwin, was your husband in the habit of wearing rings?"
"I never saw him wear any," she answered. It was plain she was puzzled by his question.
"Yet he might have done so last night?"
"I suppose so."
"You didn't happen to remove it, did you?"
"Most certainly not," she said, highly insulted by the implication.