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"And why is it," Francis queried, a little grimly, "that a dear fellow like you, Andrew, believes it his duty to talk of trifles for his pal's sake, when all the time he is thinking of something else? I know you're dying to talk about the Hilditch case, aren't you? Well, go ahead." "I'm only interested in this last development," Wilmore confessed. "Of course, I read the newspaper reports.
The room was warm but Francis was conscious of shivering. She raised her finger warningly. It seemed typical of the woman, somehow, that the message could not be conveyed by any glance or gesture. "He is coming," she whispered. Oliver Hilditch reappeared, carrying cigars wrapped in gold foil which he had brought with him from Cuba, the tobacco of which was a revelation to his guest.
There is more satisfaction to me, at any rate, in saving an innocent man's life than a guilty one's." Hilditch laughed as though amused. "Come," he threatened, "I am going to be ill-natured. You have shown signs of smugness, a quality which I detest. I am going to rob you of some part of your self-satisfaction. Of course I killed Jordan.
The Court scene, with all its gloomy tragedy, rose before his eyes only in the dock, instead of Hilditch, he saw another! There were incidents connected with that luncheon which Francis always remembered. In the first place, Sir Timothy was a great deal more silent than usual.
"So you think that Oliver Hilditch was guilty, then?" Francis asked curiously. "My dear fellow, how do I know or care?" was the indifferent reply. "I shouldn't have thought that there had been any doubt about it. You probably know, anyway." "That's just what I didn't when I got up to make my speech," Francis assured his friend emphatically.
I lied at the inquest when I said that the relations between Oliver Hilditch and his wife that night seemed perfectly normal. I lied when I said that I knew of no cause for ill-will between them. I lied when I said that I left them on friendly terms. I lied when I said that Oliver Hilditch seemed depressed and nervous. I lied when I said that he expressed the deepest remorse for what he had done.
It is a great gift to be able to argue from the brain and plead as though from the heart." "We will not detain Mr. Ledsam," Oliver Hilditch interposed, a little hastily. "He perhaps does not care to be addressed in public by a client who still carries with him the atmosphere of the prison. My wife and I wondered, Mr. Ledsam, whether you would be good enough to dine with us one night.
"It is certainly not a palace," Sir Timothy protested, "and I fear that it has scarcely the atmosphere of a villa. It is an attempt to combine certain ideas of my own with the requirements of modern entertainment. Come and have a drink with us, Ledsam." "I have just had one," Francis replied. "Mrs. Hilditch is in the rose garden and I am on my way to join her."
The butler who was waiting, handed him the daily papers and wheeled the electric heater to his side. "Is no one else breakfasting?" Francis asked. "Sir Timothy and Mrs. Hilditch are always served in their rooms, sir. Her ladyship is taking her coffee upstairs." Francis ate his breakfast, glanced through the Times, lit a cigarette and went round to the garage for his car.
A watchful butler, attended now and then by a trim parlour-maid, superintended the service. Only once, when she ordered a bowl of flowers removed from the table, did their mistress address either of them. Conversation after the first few amenities speedily became almost a monologue. One man talked whilst the others listened, and the man who talked was Oliver Hilditch.
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