Calamity Town

name and occupation and connection with the Wright family, and so on; and it arose from Carter Bradford himself.

Bradford was disciplining his tongue, speaking impersonally; but there was a bitterness about his speech that was not part of the words he was uttering. Cart was remembering that this lean and quiet-eyed man theoretically at his mercy was, in a sense, an author of more than books?he was the author of Mr. Bradford’s romantic troubles, too.

Patty’s personality shimmered between them, and Mr. Queen remarked it with satisfaction; it was another advantage he held over his inquisitor. For Patty blinded young Mr. Bradford’s eyes and drugged his quite respectable intelligence. Mr. Queen noted the advantage and tucked it away and returned to his work of concentration while the uppermost forces of his mind paid attention to the audible questions.

And suddenly he saw how he could make the truth work for Jim Haight!

He almost chuckled as he leaned back and gave his whole mind to the man before him. The very first pertinent question reassured him?Bradford was on the trail, his tongue hanging out.

“Do you recollect, Mr. Smith, that we found the three letters in the defendant’s handwriting as a result of Mrs. Haight’s hysterical belief that you had told us about them?”

“Yes.”

“Do you also recall two unsuccessful attempts on my part that day to find out from you what you knew about the letters?”

“Quite well.”

Bradford said softly: “Mr. Smith, today you are on the witness stand, under oath to tell the whole truth. I now ask you: Did you know of the existence of those three letters before Chief Dakin found them in the defendant’s house?”

And Ellery said: “Yes, I did.”

Bradford was surprised, almost suspicious.

“When did you first learn about them?”

Ellery told him, and Bradford’s surprise turned into satisfaction.

“Under what circumstances?” This was a rapped question, tinged with contempt. Ellery answered meekly.

“Then you knew Mrs. Haight was in danger from her husband?”

“Not at all. I knew there were three letters saying so by implication.”

“Well, did you or did you not believe the defendant wrote those letters?”

Judge Martin made as if to object, but Mr. Queen caught the Judge’s eye and shook his head ever so slightly.

“I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t Miss Patricia Wright identify her brother-in-law’s handwriting for you, as you just testified?”

Miss Patricia Wright, sitting fifteen feet away, looked murder at them both impartially.

“She did. But that did not make it so.”

“Did you check up yourself?”

“Yes. But I don’t pretend to be a handwriting expert.”

“But you must have come to some conclusion, Mr. Smith?”

“Objection!” shouted Judge Martin, unable to contain himself. ”His conclusion.”

“Strike out the question,” directed Judge Newbold.

Bradford smiled. ”You also examined the volume belonging to the defendant, Edgcomb’s Toxicology, particularly pages seventy-one and seventy-two, devoted to arsenic, with certain sentences underlined in red crayon?”

“I did.”

“You knew from the red-crayon underlining in the book that if a crime were going to be committed, death by arsenic poisoning was indicated?”

“We could quarrel about the distinction between certainty and probability,” replied Mr. Queen sadly, “but to save argument?let’s say I knew; yes.”

“It seems to me, Your Honor,” said Eli Martin in a bored voice, “that this is an entirely improper line of questioning.”

“How so, Counsel?” inquired Judge Newbold.

“Because Mr. Smith’s thoughts and conclusions, whether certainties, probabilities, doubts, or anything else, have no conceivable bearing upon the facts at issue.”

Bradford smiled again, and when Judge Newbold asked him to limit his questions to events and conversations, he nodded carelessly, as if it did not matter.

“Mr. Smith, were you aware that the third letter of the series talked about the ‘death’ of Mrs. Haight as if it had occurred on New Year’s Eve?”

“Yes.”

“During the New Year’s Eve party under examination, did you keep following the defendant out of the living room?”

“I did.”

“You were keeping an eye on him all evening?”

“Yes.”

“You watched him mix cocktails in the pantry?”

“Yes.”

“Now do you recall the last time before midnight the defendant mixed cocktails?”

“Distinctly.”

“Where did he mix them?”

“In the butler’s pantry off the kitchen.”

“Did you follow him there from the living room?”

“Yes, by way of the hall. The hall leads from the foyer to the rear of the house. He entered the kitchen and went into the pantry; I was just behind him but stopped in the hall, beside the door.”

“Did he see you?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“But you were careful not to be seen?”

Mr. Queen smiled. ”I was neither careful nor careless. I just stood there beside the half-open hall door to the kitchen.”

“Did the defendant turn around to look at you?” persisted Bradford.

“No.”

“But you could see /z/m?”

“Clearly.”

“What did the defendant do?”

“He prepared some Manhattan cocktails in a mixing glass. He poured some into each of a number of clean glasses standing on a tray. He was reaching for the bottle of maraschino cherries, which had been standing on the pantry table, when there was a knock at the back door. He left the cocktails and went out into the kitchen to see who had knocked.”

“That was when Miss Lola Wright and the defendant had the conversation just testified to?”

“Yes.”

“The tray of cocktails left in the butler’s pantry were visible to you all during the period in which the defendant conversed with Lola Wright at the kitchen back door?”

“Yes, indeed.”

Carter Bradford hesitated. Then he asked flatly: “Did you see anyone go near those cocktails between the time the defendant left them in the pantry and the time he returned?”

Mr. Queen replied: “I saw no one, because there wasn’t anyone.”

“The pantry remained absolutely empty during that period? “

“Of organic life?yes.”

Bradford could scarcely conceal his elation; he made a brave but unsuccessful effort. On the mourners’ bench