THERE IS NO RECORD of that scene in the District Attorney’s office, but from what we know now, and from what was brought out at the trial, I can measurably reconstruct it.
Jim, wary and uneasy, holding one of his eternal cigars in a mouth that twitched steadily, taking the opportunity they offered of lighting them, the careful bestowal of their ashes, to think; and the District Attorney, firing questions at him, endlessly, interminably.
“You knew nothing whatever of this will, then?”
“I never heard of it until Alex Davis told me, in New York.”
“He told you you had been disinherited?”
“Yes.
That didn’t bother me.
What worried me was my sister.”
“Why?”
“That’s evident, isn’t it?
She was devoted to her husband.
She had to learn that without her knowledge he had done a thing which affected her child as well as herself.”
“And in favor of her stepson.”
“Yes.”
“What were her relations to this stepson?
Friendly?”
And Jim pausing, lighting a fresh cigar, or pulling on the one he had.
“Not entirely.
The usual difficulty.
He resented her.”
“And she resented him?”
“Probably.
Somewhat.”
“You’re fond of your sister, Mr. Blake?”
“Very.
She is all I have.”
“You saw this second will in New York?”
“I did.”
“Do you remember how the envelope was marked?”
“Yes.
Perfectly.”
“It was endorsed in Mr. Somers’ own writing,
‘To be handed to my son Walter in the event of my death.’
Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Why was that, Mr. Blake?”
“I don’t know.”
“Doesn’t it show that Mr. Somers wanted to be certain that this will reached his son’s hands?
That there would be no—interference?”
“You can construe it that way if you like.”
“You had no knowledge of this will when you made that night visit to Howard Somers?”
“I never made such a visit.
How could I?
You’ve had men watching me for weeks.”
“Now, on the night of Sarah Gittings’ death, I want you to describe your movements.”
“I have said all I intend to say.
I went out for a walk.
After I had started I remembered that my sister, calling from New York, had given me a message for Sarah.
I went to a drugstore and telephoned, but she had gone out.”
“What was this message from your sister to Sarah Gittings?”