"He was of uncertain temper, I understand."
"Well, it could hardly be called uncertain." Mr. Whitaker smiled a little. "On the contrary, his temper was certain to be bad. He was an inveterate scold, and sometimes would fly into a most ungovernable rage over nothing at all. But this was not my affair; he always paid his rent, – though only under protest, and after numerous requests."
"When you saw him yesterday, was he ill-tempered?"
"Very much so. I would say unusually so, except that he was usually as cross as any man could be."
"What was he cross about?"
"Everything and nothing. He railed at the government, the weather, his lawyer, his niece, – and in fact, spoke angrily upon any subject that was mentioned between us."
"Then you can tell us nothing, Mr. Whitaker, that will throw any light upon the crime that has been committed in your house?"
"Nothing at all."
"Would it be possible for a marauder or intruder to get in during the night?"
"Into the house, yes. The front doors are open until midnight. Each tenant is supposed to safeguard his own apartment."
"And you know of no questionable person who entered the house last night?"
"Certainly not. I have no reason to notice those who come or go. The elevator boy might tell you."
Mr. Whitaker was dismissed, and the elevator boy was sent for. He was rather a clever-looking young fellow of about seventeen, and his face, though impudent, was shrewd and intelligent.
"Samuel McGuire, me name is," he announced, in response to the Coroner's question; "but the fellers call me Solomon, cos I know mor'n they do. I studies and reads every chance I gets, and they jes' loafs 'round."
"Well, Samuel, what can you tell us of Mr. Pembroke?"
"Nuttin good. But then they ain't much to tell. He never trun himself loose outen his own door; but I didn't mind his bein' canned, cos I knew he couldn't pry himself loose from a tip, any way. So I never seen him since the day he came; but gee, I've often heard him! Say, the Mauretoonia's fog-horn ain't got nothin' on him! Tain't no silent treatment he gives that niece of his'n! Nur that classy brunette soivant, neither!"
"He was not even kindly-spoken to his niece, then?"
"I guess no! Gee, the foist time I seen that skoit, I t'ought I'd been shot in the eye wit' a magazine cover! An' she's as daisy actin' as she is lookin'. I sure admire Miss Pembroke!"
This was not the kind of information Mr. Ross wanted, but young McGuire rolled it forth so rapidly, and with such graphic facial expression that his audience listened, uninterrupting.
"That's enough, McGuire," said Mr. Ross, sternly; "please confine your speech to simple and direct answers to my questions."
"Sure," agreed the boy, grinning. "But I thought you wanted me to tell you all what I was wise to of the family's doin's."
"What I want to know especially, is, whether any one came into the house last evening, or late last night, who was a stranger to you?"
"Well, no; I ain't seen no Rube divin' into my cage, wot looks suspicionary. But then, you see, Mr. Coroner, I ain't on the night shift. This week I goes off at six P. M. and toddles myself off to a tremblin' scenery show."
"Then you're not the elevator boy we want, at all," said Mr. Ross, greatly annoyed at this loss of time.
"Be-lieve me, I ain't! But I'm glad to add it against brother Pembroke. He never left his rooms, but, gee! he didn't have to, fer me to hear him bally-hooin'! Every time I passed this floor, 'most, he wuz a handin' it out to the young lady good an' plenty!"
McGuire was excused, and being loath to leave the room, he was materially assisted by Inspector Crawford.
Though not an attractive specimen of his class, and though his evidence was unimportant, he had at least helped to prove the irascibility of the late Mr. Pembroke, and the fact that his ugly temper was often vented upon his niece.
As I learned all this, I felt more than ever glad that Janet was at last freed from this tyrant. Indeed, my attention was only half given to the business in hand. My thoughts continually wandered to the girl who had, all unconsciously, twined herself around my heart. I found myself wondering where she would go when this was all over; how soon I could cultivate her acquaintance; and if – in the future – I could at last win her for my own. It was my first infatuation with any woman, and I gave myself up to it unreservedly, while my soul thrilled with hopes of what might some time be. To be sure, Miss Pembroke had not so much as glanced at me with other than the most formal politeness, such as she might show to any new acquaintance. But I would not let this discourage me. Because it was love at first sight on my side was no reason why it should be on hers, so I only determined to win her, if possible, and to be careful that she should not yet discover my feelings toward herself.
From these rose-colored dreams I was suddenly recalled to the dreadful realities of the occasion by hearing myself summoned as a witness.
I took the stand, hoping that some chance word or tone of my otherwise unimportant evidence might at least convince Miss Pembroke of my friendly interest in her and her affairs.
VII
I GIVE EVIDENCE
"Your name," said the Coroner to me.
"Otis Landon."
"You live in this house?"
"Yes, I live in the apartment across the hall, on this same floor. It is a duplicate of this apartment."
"Please tell in your own words," said Mr. Ross, "exactly what you know of this matter."
And so I told my story. "I am a lawyer, and a bachelor," I said. "My widowed sister, Mrs. Mulford, keeps house for me. As we sat at breakfast this morning the door-bell rang. Knowing from the hour – just about eight o'clock – that it was probably the hall boy with the mail, I opened the door myself, and took the letters from him. As I stood a moment, carelessly running over the mail, the boy pressed the button at the opposite apartment – the one where we now are. The colored servant came to the door, and though she unlatched it at once, it was held by a chain."
Just here Inspector Crawford interrupted me.
"The night-chain was on, you say?"
"Yes," I answered; "I heard the colored woman's voice exclaiming that she always forgot to remove the night-chain before opening the door; so she reclosed the door, unfastened the chain, and opened the door again. She then took the letters and went back to the apartment. I returned to my own breakfast. Perhaps half an hour later I started for my office. As I was waiting for the elevator to come up, my sister stood with me, chatting. When the elevator did arrive I saw a gentleman in it, who, I have since learned, is Doctor Masterson. As the car reached our floor Miss Pembroke rushed from her own apartment to meet the doctor, exclaiming that her uncle was ill. My sister and I were much concerned, and offered our assistance. A few moments later Doctor Masterson came and asked us to come over here, as Mr. Pembroke was dead and Miss Pembroke had fainted. We came at once, and have endeavored to do anything we could to help."
For some reason, Doctor Masterson seemed disturbed at my remarks. Why, I could not guess, for I had told the exact truth, and it seemed to me to have little bearing on the circumstances of the old man's death. On the other hand, what I had said seemed to give satisfaction to the Coroner. He nodded his head affirmatively several times, and it was plain to be seen that my testimony corroborated, at least did not contradict some already formed theory of his own.
After a slight pause, while he seemed to weigh in his mind the evidence I had given, he resumed his questioning.
"I am told Mr. Landon, that you searched Mr. Pembroke's bedroom for possible clues. Did you find