"Yes," admitted Joan Daisy, though she knew what was coming, but Mr. Elmen had warned her not to deny the drinking because the police evidence had established it too firmly.
"Did Ketlar offer you sherry?" demanded Calvin.
"One wineglassful."
"Did you drink it?"
"I did," confessed Joan Daisy, desperately.
"Did he also drink?"
"Yes."
"Who poured out the drinks, you or he?"
"He did," replied Joan Daisy, resorting to the truth and not foreseeing the catch in the next questions.
"Was he playing the piano while he was pouring out the drinks?"
"No."
"Or while he was drinking with you?"
"No."
"What proportion of the time, which you spent with him in his room, was actually occupied by piano playing?"
"I would say—half."
"A few moments ago you said 'all the time.'"
"Yes."
"Besides drinking with him, what else did you do with him in his room?"
"We talked music; we talked music, I told you—music!" Joan Daisy cried, driven beside herself for the minute. "He was playing for me what he'd just written and I was trying to tell him what sort of music he might write—music, music, that's all we talked and all we did!"
"He hurt his head," said Calvin, "when he was in your company?"
"Yes," replied Joan Daisy.
"This was a result of your talk about music?"
