He was pale enough now to gratify the most exigent reporter of emotions, but his pleasant, leisurely voice did not falter, and it was the ruddy Lambert, not he, who seemed embarrassed.
“Yes, quite so—naturally. I wished simply to establish the fact that you were not in her confidence as to her—er—attitude toward Mr. Ives. Now, Mr. Bellamy, I am going to ask you to tell us as directly and concisely as possible just what happened from the time that you and Mrs. Bellamy finished dinner that evening up to the time that you retired for the night.”
“I did not retire for the night.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said that I did not retire for the night. Sleep was entirely out of the question, and I didn’t care to go up to our—to my room.”
“Naturally—quite so. I will reframe my question. Will you be good enough to tell us what occurred on the evening of from the conclusion of dinner to, say, eleven o’clock?”
“I will do my best. I’m afraid that I haven’t an especially good memory for details. Mimi had said on the way home from the club that she had told the Conroys that she would join them after dinner at the movies in Rosemont. Quite a party were going, and I asked if they were going to stop by for her. She said no; that she had arranged to meet them at the theatre, as there was no room in their car. I suggested that I drive her over, and she said not to bother, as I’d have to walk back, because she wanted to keep the car; but I told her that I didn’t mind the walk and that I wanted to pick up some tobacco and a paper in the village.
“After dinner we went out to the garage together; the self starter hadn’t been working very well, and just as I got it started, Mimi called my attention to the fact that one of the rear tires was flat. She asked what time it was, and when I told her that it was five minutes to eight, she said that there wouldn’t be time to change the tire, but that if she hurried she could catch the Conroys and make them give her a lift, even if they were crowded. They lived only about five minutes from us.”
“North of you or south of you, Mr. Bellamy?”
“North of us—away from the village, toward the club. I wanted to go with her, but she said that it would be awkward for me to get away if I turned up there, and it was only a five-minute walk in broad daylight. So then I let her go.”
He sat silent, staring after that light swift figure, slipping farther away from him—farther—farther still.
“You did not accompany her to the gate?”
Stephen Bellamy jerked back those wandering eyes. “I beg your pardon?”
“You didn’t accompany her to the gate?”
“No. I was looking over the tire to see whether I could locate the damage; I was particularly anxious to get it in shape if I could, because we were planning to motor over next day to a nursery in Lakedale to get some things for the garden—some little lilacs and flowering almonds and some privet for a hedge that we—” He broke off abruptly, and after a moment said gently, “I beg your pardon; that’s got absolutely nothing to do with it, of course. What I was trying to explain was that I was endeavouring to locate the tire trouble. In a minute or so I did.”
“You ascertained its nature?”
“Yes; there was a cut in it—a small, sharp cut about half an inch long.”
“Is that a usual tire injury?”
“I am not a tire expert, but it seemed to me highly unusual. I didn’t give it much thought, however, except to wonder what in the world I’d gone over to cause a thing like that. I was in a hurry to get it fixed, as I said, and I remembered that I’d seen Orsini standing by the gate as we went by to the garage. I went out to ask him to get me a hand, but he’d started down the road toward Rosemont. I could see him quite a bit off, hurrying along, and I remembered that we’d given him the evening off. So I went back to the garage, took my coat off and got to work myself. I’d just got the shoe off when I heard—”
“Just a minute, Mr. Bellamy. Did you see Mrs. Bellamy again when you went to the gate?”
“Oh, no; she’d been gone several minutes; and in any case there is a jog in the road two or three hundred feet north of our house that would have concealed her completely.”
“She was headed in the general direction of Orchards?”
“In the direction of Orchards—yes.”
“It was along this route that the Perrytown bus passed?”
“Yes.”
“Please continue.”
“As I was saying, I had succeeded in getting the shoe off when I heard the telephone ringing in the library of our house. I dropped everything and went in to answer it, as there was no one else in the house.”
“Who was on the telephone, Mr. Bellamy?”
“It was Sue—Mrs. Ives. She wanted to know if Mimi was at home.”
“Will you give us the conversation, to the best of your recollection?”
“Yes. I said that she was not; that she had gone to the movies in Rosemont with the Conroys. Mrs. Ives asked how long she had been gone. I told her possibly ten or fifteen minutes. She asked me if I was sure that she had gone there, and I said perfectly sure, and asked her what in the world she was talking about. She said that it was essential to see me at once, and asked if I could get there in ten minutes. I said not quite as soon as that, as I was changing a tire, but that I thought that I could make it
