Pennington knew all—or nearly all—about the Atlantic City escapades, and had long ago forgiven his wife for those.
But these diamonds, now. How would they be interpreted?
He never had admired Emily greatly, she was too animated, too coltish. To him, she was merely one of Polly’s friends. But these diamonds! He wondered.
Winston was speaking.
“Where did you find these, McGuire?”
His calm tones steadied the lad, and he replied, in a low tone:
“Just where I found the fur piece, sir.”
“They were together?”
“Maybe a coupla feet apart.”
“Why didn’t you turn them in before this?”
“I—I wanted to keep ’em, sir.”
“Steal them?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I see.”
To the listeners it seemed that Winston’s calm quiet hypnotized the witness into simple statements of truth.
“And why didn’t you stick to y
