The Case of Jennie Brice eBook

Mary Roberts Rinehart
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 139 pages of information about The Case of Jennie Brice.

The Case of Jennie Brice eBook

Mary Roberts Rinehart
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 139 pages of information about The Case of Jennie Brice.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“Now, you say the dog found this slipper floating in the hall and brought it to you.  Are you sure this slipper belonged to Jennie Brice?”

“She wore it.  I presume it belonged to her.”

“Ahem.  Now, Mrs. Pitman, after the Ladleys had been moved to the upper floor, did you search their bedroom and the connecting room down-stairs?”

“No, sir.”

“Ah.  Then, how do you know that this slipper was not left on the floor or in a closet?”

“It is possible, but not likely.  Anyhow, it was not the slipper alone.  It was the other things and the slipper.  It was—­”

“Exactly.  Now, Mrs. Pitman, this knife.  Can you identify it positively?”

“I can.”

“But isn’t it true that this is a very common sort of knife?  One that nearly every housewife has in her possession?”

“Yes, sir.  But that knife handle has three notches in it.  I put the notches there myself.”

“Before this presumed crime?”

“Yes, sir.”

“For what purpose?”

“My neighbors were constantly borrowing things.  It was a means of identification.”

“Then this knife is yours?”

“Yes.”

“Tell again where you left it the night before it was found floating down-stairs.”

“On a shelf over the stove.”

“Could the dog have reached it there?”

“Not without standing on a hot stove.”

“Is it not possible that Mr. Ladley, unable to untie the boat, borrowed your knife to cut the boat’s painter?”

“No painter was cut that I heard about The paper-hanger—­”

“No, no.  The boat’s painter—­the rope.”

“Oh!  Well, he might have.  He never said.”

“Now then, this towel, Mrs. Pitman.  Did not the prisoner, on the following day, tell you that he had cut his wrist in freeing the boat, and ask you for some court-plaster?”

“He did not,” I said firmly.

“You have not seen a scar on his wrist?”

“No.”  I glanced at Mr. Ladley:  he was smiling, as if amused.  It made me angry.  “And what’s more,” I flashed, “if he has a cut on his wrist, he put it there himself, to account for the towel.”

I was sorry the next moment that I had said it, but it was too late.  The counsel for the defense moved to exclude the answer and I received a caution that I deserved.  Then: 

“You saw Mr. Ladley when he brought your boat back?”

“Yes.”

“What time was that?”

“A quarter after four Monday morning.”

“Did he come in quietly, like a man trying to avoid attention?”

“Not particularly.  It would have been of no use.  The dog was barking.”

“What did he say?”

“That he had been out for medicine.  That his wife was sick.”

“Do you know a pharmacist named Alexander—­Jonathan Alexander?”

“There is such a one, but I don’t know him.”

Copyrights
Project Gutenberg
The Case of Jennie Brice from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.