"No, sir, just a brush-off from some clerk. That's when I started trying to call you, Mr. Warner." "Yes. I have only one or two more questions, Miss Nolan. Did Callista ever express to you any hostility toward Ann Doherty?" "Never. I recall that she spoke of her several times, but never with hostility or resentment or anything suggesting jealousy. No exaggerated friendliness either. I got the impression they were--acquaintances." "Well, for that matter, did you ever hear Callista speak maliciously about anyone?" "Never." II "Your witness, Mr. Hunter." Edith Nolan thought with an edge of panic: _Is that all, Cecil?_ The Old Man's face was saying a kind of good-bye to her, turning away, not apparently displeased or disappointed--satisfied rather, so far as one could hope to read a face that must also be presenting a front to the gaze of the jury. But there was so much more that ought to have been said! The intimate truths of personality, relation, individual quality, that become no longer small once your vision is clear enough to separate the general from the specific, to see the primary core of self and the universe its matrix at one and the same time, neither too much distorted. It seemed to Edith that she had hardly begun to talk to those twelve, who were certainly not all dull, not all hostile. Was there, for example, no way at all to explain that Callista had a comic brown mole near her navel, that when she was absorbed in reading her left forefinger twisted a black curl above her ear, always the same curl, the same small motion--and that these facts, alone and of themselves, were reasons as great, valid, finally convincing, as any of the other reasons why she must not be slain?