“No,” Defoe said. “Why should I have seen him after my connection with his case ended?”
“But didn’t you even write him a note expressing your regret at having had to perform the duty of—”
“Certainly not!” interrupted Defoe. “Who ever heard of a foreman of a jury doing such a thing? Besides, he deserved his punishment.”
The Voice was silent a moment or two before it replied:
“We’ll discuss the merits of the case later.... And you didn’t even go to see him hanged?”
“What manner of man do you think I am?” exclaimed Defoe. “Of course I didn’t! I wasn’t even in Chicago where he was hanged.”
“No?” said the Voice. “Where were you?”
“A few weeks after the trial I had to go to Europe on a long business trip. I was gone a year or so. When I returned to this country I made my home here in New York City.”
“So you never even read in the newspapers about Bland—” the Voice persisted. “I don’t suppose the European papers would bother with a piece of American news like that, though.”
“No. I never read anything about the case after I left this country,” said Defoe.