“Certainly.”
“I said that they were in bed but not asleep, and asked him please not to get them too excited. He had a boat for little Peter in his hand and I was afraid that he would get him in such a state that I wouldn’t be able to do anything with him at all.”
“A boat? What kind of a boat?”
“A little sailboat—a model of a schooner. Mr. Ives had been working on it for some time.”
“Made it himself, had he?”
“Yes. He was very clever at that kind of thing. He’d made Polly a wonderful doll house.”
“Your Honour—”
“Try to confine yourself directly to the question, Miss Page.”
“Yes, Your Honour.” The meek contrition of the velvet-voiced Miss Page was a model for all future witnesses.
“Was Mr. Ives fond of the children?”
“Oh, yes, he adored—”
“I object to that question, Your Honour.” The preliminary tossings had resolved themselves into an actual upheaval this time and all of the two hundred and fifty pounds of Mr. Lambert were on his feet.
“Very well, Mr. Lambert, you may be heard. You object on what grounds?”
“I object to this entire line of questioning as absolutely immaterial, incompetent and irrelevant. How is Miss Page qualified to judge as to Mr. Ives’s affection for his children? And even if her opinion had the slightest weight, what has his affection for his children got to do with the murder of this girl? For reasons which I don’t pretend to grasp, the learned counsel for the prosecution is simply wasting the time of this court.”
“You might permit the Court to be the judge of that.” Judge Carver’s fine dark eyes rested somewhat critically on the protestant bulk before him. “Mr. Farr, you may be heard.”
“Of course, Your Honour, with all due deference to my brilliant opponent’s fireworks, he’s talking pure nonsense. Miss Page is perfectly—”
Judge Carver’s gavel fell with a crash. “Mr. Farr, the Court must ask you once and for all to keep to the matter in hand. Can you connect your question with this case?”
“Most certainly. It is the contention of the state that Mrs. Ives realized perfectly that if Mr. Ives decided that he wanted a divorce he would fight vigorously for at least partial custody of his children, whom, as Miss Page was about to tell us, he adored. Moreover, Mrs. Ives had strong religious objections to divorce. It was therefore essential to her to get rid of anyone who threatened her security if she wanted to keep the children. In order to prove this, it is necessary to establish Mr. Ives’s affection. And it ought to be perfectly obvious to anyone that Miss Page is in an excellent position to tell us what that affection was. I maintain that this question is absolutely relevant and material, and that Miss Page is perfectly competent to reply to it.”
“The question may be answered.”
“Exception.”
“Mr. Ives adored the children and they adored him. He was with them constantly.”
“Was Mrs. Ives fond of them?”
“Objection on the same grounds, Your Honour.”
“The question is allowed.”
“Exception.”
“Oh, yes, she was devoted to them.”
“As devoted to them as Mr. Ives?”
“Now, Your Honour—”
Judge Carver eyed the impassioned Lambert with temperate interest. “That seems a fairly broad question, Mr. Farr, calling for a conclusion.”
“Very well, Your Honour, I’ll reframe it. Did she seem as fond of them as Mr. Ives?”
“Oh, quite, I should think—though, of course, Mrs. Ives is not demonstrative.”
“I see—not demonstrative. Cold and reserved, eh?”
Judge Carver’s stern voice cut sharply across Miss Page’s pretty, distressed, appealing murmur: “Mr. Farr, the Court is anxious to give you as much latitude as possible, but we believe that you have gone quite far enough along this particular line.”
“I defer entirely to Your Honour’s judgment. … Miss Page, was Mrs. Ives with Mr. Ives when you met him coming into the nursery with the boat in his hand?”
“No, Mrs. Ives had already said good night to the children before her dinner.”
“Did Mr. Ives go into the nursery before you went downstairs?”
“He went past me into the day nursery, and I have no doubt that he then went into the night nursery.”
“Never mind that. I only want the facts that are in your actual knowledge. There were two nurseries, you say?”
“Yes.”
“Will you be good enough to tell us how they were arranged?”
“The day and night nurseries are in the right wing of the house, on the third floor.”
“What other rooms are on that floor?”
“My room, a bathroom, and a small sewing room.”
“Please tell us what the arrangement would be as you enter the front door.”
“Let me see—when you come in through the door you come into a very large hall that takes up almost all the central portion of the house. The central portion was an old farmhouse, and the wings, that contain all the rooms really, were added by Mrs. Ives. She knocked out the inside structure of the farmhouse and left it just a shell that she made into a big hall three stories high, with galleries around it on the second and third floors leading to the bedroom wings. There were two staircases at the back of the hall, leading to the right and left of the galleries. I’m afraid that I’m not being very clear, but it’s a little confusing.”
“You are being quite clear. Tell us just how the rooms open out as you come through the door.”
“Well, to the right is a small cloakroom and the big living room. It’s very large—it forms the whole ground floor of the right wing in fact. Over it are Mr. and Mrs. Ives’s rooms.”
“Did Mr. and Mrs. Ives occupy separate rooms?”
“Oh, no, there was a large bedroom, and on one side of it was Mrs. Ives’s dressing room and bath, and to the left Mr. Ives’s dressing room and bath. On the third floor were the nurseries and my room. On the left downstairs as you came in was a little flower room.”
“A flower room?”
“A room that was used for
