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The first day I was here, he brought a woman out, a swell looker I didn't find out till afterwards that it was Felderson's wife an' he kinda kidded her along about helpin' him over the rough spots by lendin' him a little of her dough.
"What were those reservations?" "That there should be nothing in Mr. Woods' past that could cause Mrs. Felderson trouble in the future, in case she married Woods." "Did Mr. Woods know of Mr. Felderson's intention not to divorce Mrs. Felderson?" he demanded. "I don't know. I know that Mr. Felderson had made an important discovery about Mr. Woods' past life."
"That man over there. He found them and took them to the hospital after sending one of his friends to notify the police." The man evidently heard our voices, and came over to us. "Is this the inspector?" he asked. "No," I replied, "I am Mr. Felderson's brother-in-law." "Oh, I'm sorry!" he said quickly. "May I express my deep, deep sympathy?" "Thank you.
The case against Zalnitch falls down. We can strike him off the list." I hated to give him up, but I had to admit Simpson's logic was faultless. "Now let us take up the case of Woods. Here is a man who threatened Felderson's life unless he gave his wife a divorce, which you say Felderson did not intend to do. There, again, is a motive.
"Was this discovery of such a nature as to cause Mr. Felderson to refuse a divorce?" "It was!" I answered. "Can you tell the jury what this discovery was?" "No, I can not." "Did Mr. Woods know that Mr. Felderson had made this discovery?" "I think he did." "Aren't you certain?" "No." "This is important, Mr. Thompson. Will you tell the jury why you think Mr. Woods knew of Mr. Felderson's discovery?"
Wait till I get my coat!" We ran up to the hospital and asked if we could be admitted if only for a few moments to Mrs. Felderson's room. Johnson, the little interne with the glasses, had just come in, and when he heard my request he was splutteringly indignant. "What the devil do you think Mrs. Felderson is suffering from, a broken ankle? Don't you realize she has been desperately ill?
Felderson's car was so fast that the police sometimes used it, and he had their permission to wear that light, as you probably know. Also, it may have been dark enough to use the search-light and yet light enough so that a car could be distinguished at a hundred feet. If there was any light at all, that big Peckwith-Pierce car could be recognized by any one." He was impressed.
I nodded my head. One of the nurses led me to a large room on the second floor. As we neared the door a young interne, so the nurse told me, came out. He was thoughtfully polishing his glasses. "I am Warren Thompson, Mr. Felderson's brother-in-law," I explained. "Can you tell me how badly Mr. and Mrs. Felderson were hurt?" He put his glasses back on his nose and looked at me sympathetically. "Mr.
"You think she referred to the black limousine when she said, 'It's going to hit us'?" the foreman continued. "Yes." "Yet the coroner's verdict was that your brother-in-law was killed by a bullet, fired, apparently, from behind and above." I felt the weakness of my ground. "The bullet might have been fired from the automobile and ricochetted from some part of Mr. Felderson's machine."
The idea of helping me didn't please him at all. As soon as I had spoken I saw my error in not putting it the other way around. "Now, Mr. Thompson, you better keep out of this," he advised, getting to his feet. "I know that you are anxious to find out if these men had anything to do with Mr. Felderson's death, but the case is in good hands.
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