ANSWER: Mr. Lamson, didn't I say I _was_ pregnant? I had a miscarriage last night. QUESTION: Oh. I'm sorry, I don't think you did tell us that. When did it happen? ANSWER: Out there, after I'd found her in the pond. QUESTION: A result of shock, or--exertion? ANSWER: Shock maybe. Is this the fourth time I've told you I didn't push her in the water? I found her, I knew she was dead, I came away. QUESTION: The miscarriage--I'm sorry, but I must ask-- ANSWER: Why, frankly, Mr. Lamson, it hurts. QUESTION: You know very well that's not what I meant. Where exactly were you when it happened? ANSWER: First pain, there by the pond. I went back to my car because I thought I might be able to drive home somehow-- QUESTION: You mean to your mother's house? ANSWER: I do not, I mean my apartment. But it was getting worse, and at the junction I did turn that way on Walton, because I remembered the woods across the road. I left the car by the pines, and got over there, into the woods. It was over pretty soon. QUESTION: You must have a good deal of courage, Miss Blake. ANSWER: Enough, I hope. QUESTION: I hope so too. By the way, Miss Blake, you might glance at this folder, if you will. "That's where he flashed the morgue pictures at you, Cal?" "Uh-huh. I was a--what's the term?--a cool customer. Oh yes--he's reading my intelligent comments now. Not bad for a beginner, don't you think? Like Lizzie Borden." "Hush, dear." "Well, Lizzie was a beginner too. What's more she had to operate on a breakfast of mutton broth." Cecil Warner could wonder then whether it had been Callista's wry and thorny humor that saved her during the moments last August--there must have been such moments--when she had drawn that dark bottle forward on the shelf and perhaps set out a single glass. IV As Joe Bass emptied the ash tray and made gentle needless motions with a dustrag at the bookshelves, Judge Terence Mann glanced at the handful of doodle scraps he had taken out of their temporary shelter in the minute book at the close of the day. None of them pleased him now, except possibly his sketch of the fingerprint technician Sergeant Zane scratching the lens he wore in place of a head. Drawing the toxicologist Dr. Ginsberg with his smooth face modified into a chemical retort had not turned out well. There was no comedy in solemn Dr. Ginsberg, unless it might be in his very self-conscious aloofness, his volunteered declaration on the stand that he never listened to anything about a criminal case except the facts immediately pertinent to his specialty. He had said in effect: "_That_ for your emotional involvements!"--but it was a valid attitude if you happened to be Dr. Ginsberg, and not very funny. "Did you stick it out, Joe?" "No, I wanted to tidy up in here, so I slipped out after Mr. Delehanty finished reading that statement. Did I miss anything important?"