As his eye fell upon the district attorney, who had lingered near,
possibly in the hope of getting something more from this depressed
and almost insensible man, he made one remark, but it was an
automatic one, calculated to produce but little effect on the
discriminating ears of this experienced official.
"I do not believe that my wife was murdered." This was what he said.
"It was a wicked verdict. My wife killed herself. Wasn't the pistol
found tied to her?"
Either from preoccupation or a dazed condition of mind, he seemed to
forget that Miss Tuttle had owned to tying on this pistol; and that
nothing but her word went to prove that this was done before and not
after the shot had been delivered in the Moore house library. I
thought I understood him and was certain that I sympathized with his
condition; but in the ears of those less amiably disposed toward him,
his statements had lost force and the denial went for little.
Meanwhile a fact which all had noted and commented on had recurred to
my mind and caused me to ask a brother officer who was walking out
beside me what he thought of Mr. Moore's absence from an inquiry
presumably of such importance to all members of this family.
The fellow laughed and said:
"Old Dave has lost none of his peculiarities in walking into his
fortune.
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