"I thought she was serious." "Oh, you did, did you? Please tell me something else. Are you prepared to inform his lordship and the jury that your impression at the time was that it was the accused's intention to kill her husband if ever she got the chance?" "Well, I shouldn't like to go so far as, to say that." "Naturally not. Now listen." Ronnie leaned forward; and his gaze traveled towards the jury. "I put it to you that the remark was meant as a joke." "Well, not exactly a joke." "Come, come, Mr. Hodges," said Ronnie, and his tone was a shade less suave than his words, "you're a man of the world. You must have realized at the time whether the accused was speaking seriously or not.' "I thought she was serious." The book-maker, though obviously flustered, stuck to his guns. "Very well. We'll leave it at that. The accused told you, in her husband's presence, that she wished she'd never married him. Her husband, apparently, didn't take any notice of the remark. But you thought it was serious. Not very convincing--but still----" Ronnie's question trailed off into a sarcastic silence. Looking sideways at Brunton, he could see that Brunton was troubled; Brunton kept talking to Smith-Assher, kept fidgeting with his gown and tapes, with the pencils and paper in front of him. The sight gave Ronnie confidence. He continued his cross-examination. "You told my learned friend that, although William Towers was very fond of his wife, his affection was not reciprocated. How did you know that? Did _she_ tell you?" "No." "Did William Towers tell you?" "No." "Then who did tell you?" "Well, it was common gossip." "Gossip!" Ronnie jumped on the word. "Where?" "Oh, all over the place." "Ah!" Counsel for the defense jingled two thoughtful coins. "I'm afraid I don't know Brixton very well, Mr. Hodges. Tell me, please, when you say all over the place, do you include," more jingling in the trouser-pocket, "a certain public-house called--'The Red Lion'?" "Well----" the witness hesitated. "Let me put my point clearly. Do you know, in Brixton, a public-house called 'The Red Lion'?" "Yes." "How far is that public-house from 25 Laburnum Grove?" "About half a mile." "Shall we say about ten minutes' walk?" "Yes. That's about it." Obviously the judge was puzzled. "Mr. Cavendish," he intervened, "I'm afraid I don't quite follow." "M' lord," every syllable of Ronnie's fell with its distinct emphasis, "the point is of vital importance in connection with the evidence of a previous witness." And he went on swiftly to ask the book-maker, "Do you know a woman called Maggie Peterson?" "Oh, yes." The white teeth under the black mustache parted in a grin. "Oh, yes, I know her quite well." "Mrs. Peterson told us in her evidence that she was a friend of the deceased. Is that true?" "Oh, yes, they were quite friendly." "Very friendly?" "Yes."