Penfield consulted a list of names. "Call Grimes, the McIntyre butler,"
he said. "We will hear him while waiting for the Colonel."
Grimes, small and thin, with the stolid countenance of the well-trained servant, was exceedingly short in his replies to the coroner"s questions. Yes, he had lived with the McIntyre during their residence in Washington, something like five years, he couldn"t quite remember the exact dates. No, there was never any quarreling, upstairs or down; it was a well-ordered household until this.
"Exactly," remarked the coroner dryly. "What about Monday night? Tell us, Grimes, what occurred in that house between midnight Monday and five o"clock Tuesday morning."
"Haven"t much to tell," was the grumpy response. "I went upstairs about half-past eleven and got down the next morning at the usual hour, seven o"clock."
"And you heard no disturbing sounds in the night?"
"No; sir. We wouldn"t be likely to; the servants" rooms are all at the top of the house and the staircase leading to them has a brick wall on either side, like stairs leading to an ordinary attic, and there"s a door at the bottom which shuts off all sound from below." It was the longest sentence the butler had indulged in and he paused for breath.
"Who closes the house at night. Grimes?"
"I do, sir.
"Why did you leave the window in the reception room open?"
"I didn"t, sir," was the prompt denial. "I had just locked it when Mrs.
Brewster came in, along with Colonel McIntyre and Mr. Clymer, and they sat down to talk. When I left the room the window was locked fast, and so was every door and window in the place," he declared aggressively.
"I"ll take my dying oath to it, sir." Penfield looked at Grimes; that he was telling the truth was unmistakable.
"Who sits up to let in the young ladies when they go to b.a.l.l.s?" he asked.
"Generally no one, sir, because Colonel McIntyre accompanies them or calls for them, and he has his latch-key. Lately," added Grimes as an after-thought, "Miss Helen has been using a duplicate latch-key."
"Has Miss Barbara McIntyre a latch-key, also?" asked Penfield.
"No, sir, I believe not," the butler looked dubious. "I recall that Colonel McIntyre gave Miss Helen her key at the luncheon table, and he said, then, to Miss Barbara that he couldn"t trust her with one because she would be sure to lose it, she is that careless."
The coroner asked the next question with such abruptness that the butler started.
"When did you last see Mr. Turnbull at the house?"
"Sunday afternoon." Grimes" reply was spoken with more than his accustomed quickness of speech. "Mr. Turnbull called twice, after a long time in the drawing room, he went away taking the police dogs with him, and later called to bring them back."
"Where were these dogs on Monday night?"
"I last saw them in the library," replied Grimes shortly.
"And where did you find them the next morning?" prompted the coroner.
"In the cellar," laconically.
"And what were they doing in the cellar?"
"Hunting rats."
"And how did the dogs get in the cellar?" inquired the coroner patiently. Grimes was not volunteering information, even if he could not be accused of holding it back.
"Some one must have let them down the back stairs," the butler admitted.
"I don"t know who it was."
"Which servant got downstairs ahead of you on Tuesday morning?"
"No one, sir; the cook over-slept, and she and the maids came down in a bunch ten minutes later."
"And who told you of the attempted burglary and the burglar"s arrest?"
asked Penfield.
"Miss Barbara. She asked us to hurry breakfast for her and Miss Helen "cause they had to go at once to the police court; she didn"t give any particulars, or nothing," added Grimes in an injured tone. ""Twarn"t "til Thomas and I saw the afternoon papers that we knew what had been going on in our own house."
"That is all, Grimes," announced Penfield, and the butler left the platform with the same stolid air he wore when he arrived. He was followed in the witness chair by the other McIntyre servants in succession. Their testimony added nothing to what he had said but simply confirmed his statements.
Kent, who had grown restless during the servants" monotonous testimony, forgot the oppressive atmosphere of the room on seeing Mrs. Brewster enter under the escort of the morgue master. Spying a vacant seat several rows ahead of where he was sitting, Kent, with a muttered apology to the people over whom he crawled in his efforts to get out, hurried into it just as the vivacious widow had finished taking the oath to "tell the truth and nothing but the truth," and seated herself, with much rustling of silk skirts in the witness chair.
"State your full name, madam," directed Coroner Penfield, eyeing her dainty beauty with admiration.
"Margaret Perry Brewster," she answered. "Widow of Louis C. Brewster.
Both I and my late husband were born and lived in Los Angeles, California."
"Are you visiting the Misses McIntyre?"
"Yes." Mrs. Brewster spoke in a chatty impersonal manner. "I have been with them since the first of the month."
"Did you attend the Grosvenor dance?" asked the coroner.
"No; the affair was only given for the debutantes of last fall and did not include married people," she explained. "It was a warm night and Colonel McIntyre asked Mr. Benjamin Clymer, who was dining with him, and me, to go for a motor ride, leaving Barbara at the Grosvenors" en route.
We did so, returning to the house about eleven o"clock, and sat talking until about midnight in the reception room, then Colonel McIntyre drove Mr. Clymer home, and I went to my room."
"Were you awakened by any noises during the night?" inquired Penfield.
"No; I heard no noises." Mrs. Brewster"s charming smile was infectious.
"When did you first learn of the supposed burglary and the death of James Turnbull?"
"The McIntyre twins told me about the tragedy on their return from the police court," answered Mrs. Brewster, and settled herself a little more comfortably in the witness chair.
"When you were in the reception room, Mrs. Brewster"--Penfield paused and studied his notes a second--"did you observe if the window was open or closed?"
"It was not open when we entered," she responded. "But the air in the room was stuffy and at my request Mr. Clymer raised the window."
"Did he close it later?"
She considered the question. "I really do not recall," she admitted finally. Her eyes strayed toward the door through which she had entered, and Penfield answered her unspoken thought.
"Just one more question," he said hurriedly. "Did you see the dogs on Monday night?"