Witness: "At my sister-in-law's house in London.''
The Coroner: "When was that?"
Witness: "I think it was June last year."
1 From the newspaper report-not Mr. Parker.
The Coroner: "You were quite happy in your engagement?"
Witness: "Quite."
The Coroner: "You naturally saw a good deal of Captain Cathcart. Did he tell you much about his previous life?"
Witness: "Not very much. We were not given to mutual confidences. We usually discussed subjects of common interest."
The Coroner: "You had many such subjects?"
Witness: "Oh, yes."
The Coroner: "You never gathered at any time that Captain Cathcart had anything on his mind?"
Witness: "Not particularly. He had seemed a little anxious the last few days."
The Coroner: "Did he speak of his life in Paris?"
Witness: "He spoke of theatres and amusements there. He knew Paris very well. I was staying in Paris with some friends last February, when he was there, and he took us about. That was shortly after our engagement."
The Coroner: "Did he ever speak of playing cards in Paris?"
Witness: "I don't remember."
The Coroner: "With regard to your marriage-had any money settlements been gone into?"
Witness: "I don't think so. The date of the marriage was not in any way fixed."
The Coroner: "He always appeared to have plenty of money?"
Witness: "I suppose so; I didn't think about it."
The Coroner: "You never heard him complain of being hard up?"
Witness: "Everybody complains of that, don't they?"
The Coroner: "Was he a man of cheerful disposition?"
Witness: "He was very moody, never the same two days together."
The Coroner: "You have heard what your brother said. Did you hear someone run downstairs and bang the front door.
[Some garbled text removed here]
The next witness called was James Fleming, the manservant.
He remembered having brought the letters from Riddlesdale at 9.45 on Wednesday evening. He had taken three or four letters to the Duke in the gunroom.
He could not remember at all whether one of them had had an Egyptian stamp. He did not collect stamps; his hobby was autographs.
The Hon. Frederick Arbuthnot then gave evidence.
He had gone up to bed with the rest at a little before ten. He had heard Denver come up by himself some time later-couldn't say how much later-he was brushing his teeth at the time. (Laughter.) Had certainly heard loud voices and a row going on next door and in the passage. Had heard somebody go for the stairs hell-for-leather. Had stuck his head out and seen Denver in the passage. Had said, "Hello, Denver, what's the row?" The Duke's reply had been inaudible.
Denver had bolted into his bedroom and shouted out of the window, "Don't be an ass, man!"
He had seemed very angry indeed, but the Hon. Freddy attached no importance to that. One was always getting across Denver, but it never came to anything. More dust than kick in his opinion. Hadn't known Cathcart long-I always found him all right-no, he didn't like Cathcart, but he was all right, you know, nothing wrong about him that he knew of. Good lord, no, he'd never heard it suggested he cheated at cards! Well, no, of course, he didn't go about looking out for people cheating at cards-it wasn't a thing one expected. He'd been had that way in a club at Monte once-he'd had no hand in bringing it to light-hadn't noticed anything till the fun began. Had not noticed anything particular in Cathcart's manner to Lady Mary, or hers to him. Didn't suppose he ever would notice anything; did not consider himself an observing sort of man. Was not interfering by nature; had thought Wednesday evening's dustup none of his business. Had gone to bed and to sleep.
The Coroner: "Did you hear anything further that night?"
Hon. Frederick: "Not till poor little Mary knocked me up. Then I toddled down and found Denver in the conservatory, bathing Cathcart's head. We thought we ought to clean the gravel and mud off his face, you know."
The Coroner: "You heard no shot?"
Hon. Frederick: "Not a sound. But I sleep pretty heavily."
Colonel and Mrs. Marchbanks slept in the room over what was called the study-more a sort of smoking-room really. They both gave the same account of a conversation which they had had at 11.30. Mrs. Marchbanks had sat up to write some letters after the Colonel was in bed. They had heard voices and someone running about, but had paid no attention. It was not unusual for members of the party to shout and run about.
At last the Colonel had said, "Come to bed, my dear, it's half-past eleven, and we're making an early start tomorrow. You won't be fit for anything." He said this because Mrs. Marchbanks was a keen sportswoman and always carried her gun with the rest. She replied, "I'm just coming." The Colonel said, "You're the only sinner burning the midnight oil-everybody's turned in." Mrs. Marchbanks replied, "No, the Duke's still up; I can hear him moving about in the study." Colonel Marchbanks listened and heard it too. Neither of them heard the Duke come up again. They had heard no noise of any kind in the night.
Mr. Pettigrew-Robinson appeared to give evidence with extreme reluctance. He and his wife had gone to bed at ten. They had heard the quarrel with Cathcart. Mr. Pettigrew-Robinson, fearing that something might be going to happen, opened his door in time to hear the Duke say, "If you dare to speak to my sister again I'll break every bone in your body," or words to that effect.
Cathcart had rushed downstairs. The Duke was scarlet in the face. He had not seen Mr. Pettigrew-Robinson, but had spoken a few words to Mr. Arbuthnot and rushed into his own bedroom. Mr. Pettigrew-Robinson had run out, and said to Mr. Arbuthnot, "I say, Arbuthnot," and Mr. Arbuthnot had very rudely slammed the door in his face. He had then gone to the Duke's door and said, "I say, Denver." The Duke had come out, pushing past him, without even noticing him, and gone to the head of the stairs. He had heard him tell Fleming to leave the conservatory door open, as Mr. Cathcart had gone out. The Duke had then returned.
Mr. Pettigrew-Robinson had tried to catch him as he passed, and had said again, "I say, Denver, what's up?" The Duke had said nothing, and had shut his bedroom door with great decision. Later on, however, at 11.30 to be precise, Mr. Pettigrew-Robinson had heard the Duke's door open, and stealthy feet moving about the passage. He could not hear whether they had gone downstairs. The bathroom and lavatory were at his end of the passage, and, if anybody had entered either of them, he thought he should have heard. He had not heard the footsteps return. He had heard his travelling clock strike twelve before falling asleep. There was no mistaking the Duke's bedroom door, as the hinge creaked in a peculiar manner.
Mrs. Pettigrew-Robinson confirmed her husband's evidence. She had fallen asleep before midnight, and had slept heavily. She was a heavy sleeper at the beginning of the night, but slept lightly in the early morning.
She had been annoyed by all the disturbance in the house that evening, as it had prevented her from getting off. In fact, she had dropped off about 10.30, and Mr. Pettigrew-Robinson had had to wake her an hour after to tell her about the footsteps. What with one thing and another she only got a couple of hours' good sleep.
She woke up again at two, and remained broad awake till the alarm was given by Lady Mary. She could swear positively that she heard no shot in the night. Her window was next to Lady Mary's, on the opposite side from the conservatory. She had always been accustomed from a child to sleep with her window open. In reply to a question from the Coroner, Mrs. Pettigrew-Robinson said she had never felt there was a real, true affection between Lady Mary Wimsey and deceased.
They seemed very off-hand, but that sort of thing was the fashion nowadays. She had never heard of any disagreement.
Miss Lydia Cathcart, who had been hurriedly summoned from town, then