"Positive. Were you led to believe that Giovanni was the murderer?"
Her voice was cold, impassive, marvellously under control. It warned him,
threw him back into the safe role of Hume's adviser and friend.
"I am led to believe nothing at present," he said slowly. "This inquiry
is, as yet, only twenty-four hours old so far as I am concerned. I am
seeking information. When I am gorged with facts I proceed to digest
them."
"Well, what I tell you is true. There are no less than ten people, all
living, I have no doubt, who can testify to its correctness. I had a box
at the Fancy Dress Ball that New Year's Eve. I invited nine guests. One of
them, an attache at the Italian Embassy, brought Giovanni and introduced
him to me. We were together from midnight until 4.30 a.m. Whilst poor Alan
was lying here dead, I was revelling at a _bal masque_. Do you think I am
likely to forget the circumstances?"
The icy tones thrilled with pitiful remembrance. But the barrister's task
required the unsparing use of the probe. He determined, once and for all,
to end an unpleasant scene.
"Will you tell me why you and your husband have, shall we say, disagreed
so soon after your marriage? You were formed by Providence and nature to
be mated. What has driven you apart?"
The woman flushed scarlet under this direct inquiry.
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