Mr. Farr, however, was obviously unmoved by this exhibition of devotion and loyalty. He permitted more than a trace of annoyance to penetrate his clear, metallic voice. “That’s all very pretty and touching, naturally, Miss Roberts, but from a crudely legal standpoint we are forced to realize that your statement as to the nature of the stains has no weight whatever. It is a fact, is it not, that you never laid eyes on the stained coat that Mrs. Ives sent out of her house within a few hours of the time that this murder was committed?”
“Yes, sir, that is a fact.”
“No further questions, Miss Roberts. Cross-examine.”
“It is a fact, too, that Mrs. Ives frequently sent packages in just this way, isn’t it, Miss Roberts?” inquired Mr. Lambert mellifluously.
“Oh, yes, indeed, she did—often and often.”
“Was she in the habit of putting her address on packages sent to charitable institutions?”
“No, sir. She didn’t want to be thanked for her charities—not ever.”
“Precisely. That’s all, Miss Roberts—thanks.”
“Call Orsini.”
“Loo-weegee Aw-see-nee!”
Luigi Orsini glanced darkly at Ben Potts as he mounted the witness stand, and Mr. Potts returned the glance with Nordic severity.
“What was your occupation on , Orsini?”
“I work for Miz’ Bell’my.”
“In what capacity?”
“What you say?”
“What was your job?”
“I am what you call handy—do everything there is to do.”
The spacious gesture implied Gargantuan labours and superhuman abilities. A small, thick, stocky individual, swarthy and pompadoured, with lustrous eyes, a glittering smile, and a magnificent barytone voice, he suggested without any effort whatever infinite possibilities in the role of either tragedian or comedian. The redoubtable Farr eyed him with a trace of well-justified apprehension.
“Well, suppose you tell us what your principal activities were on the .”
“Ah, well, that day me, I am very active, like per usual. At six o’clock I arise and after some small breakfast I take extra-fine strong wire and some very long sticks—”
“No, no, you can skip all that. You heard Mr. Farwell’s testimony, didn’t you?”
“For sure I hear that testimony.”
“Was it correct that he stopped around noon at the Bellamys’ and asked for Mrs. Bellamy?”
“All correct, OK”
“Did he tell you where he was going?”
“Yes, sair, he then he say he get her at that cottage.”
“Nothing else?”
“Not one other thing else.”
“You didn’t see him again?”
“No, no; I do not see him again evair.”
“When did you last see Mrs. Bellamy?”
“It is about eight in the evening—maybe five minute before, maybe five minute after.”
“How do you fix the time?”
“I have look at my watch—this watch you now see, which is a good instrument of entirely pure silver, but not always faithful.”
The prosecutor waved away the bulky shining object dangled enticingly before his eyes with a gesture of almost ferocious impatience. “Never mind about that. Why did you consult your watch?”
The owner of the magnificent but unfaithful instrument swelled darkly for a moment, but continued to dangle his treasure. “That you shall hear—patience. I produce the instrument at this time so that you note that while the clock over the door it say twenty minutes before the hour, this watch it say nine minute—or maybe eight. You judge for yourself. It is without a doubt eccentric. But on that night still I have consult it to see if I go to New York at eight-twenty. I wait to decide still when I see Mrs. Bell’my run down the front steps and come down to the gate where I stand.”
“Did she speak to you?”
“Oh, positive. She ask, ‘What, Luigi, you do not go to New York?’ ”
“How did she know that you were going to New York?”
“Because already before dinner I have ask permission from Mr. Bell’my if I can go to New York that evening to see a young lady from Milan that I think perhaps I marry, maybe. Miz’ Bell’my she is in the next room and she laugh and call out, ‘You tell Marietta that if she get you, one day she will find herself marry to the President of these United State’.’ I excuse myself for what may seem like a boast, but those are the words she use.”
And suddenly, as though he found the memory of that gay, mocking young voice floating across the heavy air of the courtroom more unbearable than all the blood and shame and horror that had invaded it, Stephen Bellamy’s face twisted to a tortured grimace and he lifted an unsteady hand to lowered eyes.
“Look!” came a penetrating whisper. “He’s crying, ain’t he? Ain’t he, Gertie?”
And the redheaded girl lowered her own eyes swiftly, a shamed and guilty flush reaching to the roots of her hair. How ugly, how contemptible, one’s thoughts could sound in words!
“What reply did you make to Mrs. Bellamy?”
“I tell to her that I think maybe I had better not go, as that afternoon I have invest my money in a small game of chance with the gardener next door and the investment it have prove’ unsound. I say that how if I go to New York to see my young lady, it is likely that I must request of her the money to return back to Rosemont—and me, who am proud, I find that indelicate. So Miz’ Bell’my she laugh out and look quick in the little bag that she carry and give me three dollar’—to make the course of true love run more smooth, she say—and then she call back over her shoulder, ‘Better hurry, Luigi, or you miss that train.’ So I hurry, but all the same I miss it—by two small minute, because, chiefly, this watch he is too eccentric.”
In spite of its eccentricity, he returned it tenderly to his vest pocket, after a final flip in
