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Tracy, Louis, 1863-1928

"The Postmaster's Daughter"

I avoided you purposely."
"May I ask, why?"
"My mind was weary. I wanted my wits about me when I tackled you."
Ingerman smiled, and leaned back, resting both elbows on the arms of the
chair, and bringing the tips of his fingers together.
"Proceed," he said.
"You prefer that I should drag out a statement piecemeal rather than
receive it _en bloc_?"
"Put it that way, if you like."
"I shall even enjoy it. To clear the ground, are you the Isidor G.
Ingerman who exploited the A1 Mine in Abyssinia?"
Ingerman's finger-tips whitened under a sudden pressure, but his voice
remained calm.
"An unfortunate episode," he said.
"And the Aegean Transport Company, Limited?"
"Into which I was inveigled by Greeks. But why this history of ruined
enterprises?"
"It's a sort of schooling. I have noticed that the smartest counsel
invariably begin with a few fireworks in order to induce the proper frame
of mind in a witness."
"Does that mean that you want me to blurt out bitter and prejudiced
accusations against Mr. Grant?"
"I want to hear what you have to say about the death of your wife. You
forced the cross-examining role on me. I'm doing my best.


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