The Red Seal [28]
"I used handcuffs on the prisoner, thinking maybe he'd give me the slip in the dim light, but there was no fight or flight in him."
"Did he talk to you on the way to the station house?"
"No, sir; and at the station he was just as quiet, only answered the questions the desk sergeant put to him, and that was all," stated 0' Ryan.
Penfield laid down his memorandum pad. "All right, O'Ryan; you may retire," and at the words the policeman left the platform and the room. He was followed by the police sergeant who had been on desk duty at the Eighth Precinct on Tuesday morning. His testimony simply corroborated O'Ryan's statement that the prisoner had done and said nothing which would indicate that he was other than he seemed - a housebreaker.
Coroner Penfield paused before calling the next witness and drank a glass of ice water; the weather had turned unseasonably hot, and the room in which inquests were held, was stifling, in spite of the long opened windows at either end.
"Call Miss Helen McIntyre," Penfield said to the morgue master, and the latter crossed to the door leading to the room where sat the witnesses. There was instant craning of necks to catch a glimpse of the society girl about whom, with her twin sister, so much interest centered.
Helen was extremely pale as she advanced up the room, but Kent, watching her closely, was relieved to see none of the nervousness which had been so marked at their interview that morning. She was dressed with fastidious taste, and as she mounted the platform after the morgue master had administered the oath, Coroner Penfield rose and, with a polite gesture, indicated the chair she was to occupy.
"I am Helen McIntyre," she announced c1ear1y. "Daughter of Colonel Charles McIntyre."
"Tell us the circumstances attending the arrest of James Turnbull, alias John Smith, in your house on Tuesday morning, Miss McIntyre," directed the coroner, seating himself at his table, on which were writing materials.
"I was sitting up to let in my sister, who had gone to a dance," she began, "and fearing I would fall asleep I went down into the library, intending to sit in one of the window recesses and watch for her arrival. As I entered the library I saw a figure steal across the room and disappear inside a closet. I was very frightened, but had sense enough left to cross softly to the closet and lock the door." She paused in her rapid recital and drew a long breath, then continued more slowly:
"I hurried to the window and across the street I saw a policeman standing under a lamp-post. It took but a minute to call him. The policeman opened the closet door, put handcuffs on Mr. Turnbull and took him away."
Coroner Penfield, as well as the jurors, followed her statement with absorbed attention. At its end he threw down his pencil and spoke briefly to the deputy coroner, who had been busily engaged in taking notes of the inquest, and then he turned to Helen.
"You heard no sound before entering the library?"
"No one walking about the house?" he persisted.
"No." She followed the negative with a short explanation. "I lay down on my bed soon after dinner, not feeling very well, and slept through the early hours of the night."
"At what hour did you wake up?"
"About four o'clock, or a little after."
"Then you were awake an hour before you discovered the supposed burglar in your library?"
"Y-yes," Helen's hesitation was faint. "About that length of time."
"And you heard no unusual sounds in that hour's interval?"
"I heard nothing" - her manner was slightly defiant and Kent's heart sank; if he had only thought to warn her not to antagonize the coroner.
"Where were you during that hour?"
"Lying down," promptly. "Then, afraid I would drop off to sleep again, I went downstairs."
Coroner Penfield consulted his notes before asking another question.
"Who lives in your house beside you and your twin sister?" he asked.
"My father, Colonel McIntyre; our house guest, Mrs. Louis C. Brewster, and five servants," she replied. "Grimes,
"Did he talk to you on the way to the station house?"
"No, sir; and at the station he was just as quiet, only answered the questions the desk sergeant put to him, and that was all," stated 0' Ryan.
Penfield laid down his memorandum pad. "All right, O'Ryan; you may retire," and at the words the policeman left the platform and the room. He was followed by the police sergeant who had been on desk duty at the Eighth Precinct on Tuesday morning. His testimony simply corroborated O'Ryan's statement that the prisoner had done and said nothing which would indicate that he was other than he seemed - a housebreaker.
Coroner Penfield paused before calling the next witness and drank a glass of ice water; the weather had turned unseasonably hot, and the room in which inquests were held, was stifling, in spite of the long opened windows at either end.
"Call Miss Helen McIntyre," Penfield said to the morgue master, and the latter crossed to the door leading to the room where sat the witnesses. There was instant craning of necks to catch a glimpse of the society girl about whom, with her twin sister, so much interest centered.
Helen was extremely pale as she advanced up the room, but Kent, watching her closely, was relieved to see none of the nervousness which had been so marked at their interview that morning. She was dressed with fastidious taste, and as she mounted the platform after the morgue master had administered the oath, Coroner Penfield rose and, with a polite gesture, indicated the chair she was to occupy.
"I am Helen McIntyre," she announced c1ear1y. "Daughter of Colonel Charles McIntyre."
"Tell us the circumstances attending the arrest of James Turnbull, alias John Smith, in your house on Tuesday morning, Miss McIntyre," directed the coroner, seating himself at his table, on which were writing materials.
"I was sitting up to let in my sister, who had gone to a dance," she began, "and fearing I would fall asleep I went down into the library, intending to sit in one of the window recesses and watch for her arrival. As I entered the library I saw a figure steal across the room and disappear inside a closet. I was very frightened, but had sense enough left to cross softly to the closet and lock the door." She paused in her rapid recital and drew a long breath, then continued more slowly:
"I hurried to the window and across the street I saw a policeman standing under a lamp-post. It took but a minute to call him. The policeman opened the closet door, put handcuffs on Mr. Turnbull and took him away."
Coroner Penfield, as well as the jurors, followed her statement with absorbed attention. At its end he threw down his pencil and spoke briefly to the deputy coroner, who had been busily engaged in taking notes of the inquest, and then he turned to Helen.
"You heard no sound before entering the library?"
"No one walking about the house?" he persisted.
"No." She followed the negative with a short explanation. "I lay down on my bed soon after dinner, not feeling very well, and slept through the early hours of the night."
"At what hour did you wake up?"
"About four o'clock, or a little after."
"Then you were awake an hour before you discovered the supposed burglar in your library?"
"Y-yes," Helen's hesitation was faint. "About that length of time."
"And you heard no unusual sounds in that hour's interval?"
"I heard nothing" - her manner was slightly defiant and Kent's heart sank; if he had only thought to warn her not to antagonize the coroner.
"Where were you during that hour?"
"Lying down," promptly. "Then, afraid I would drop off to sleep again, I went downstairs."
Coroner Penfield consulted his notes before asking another question.
"Who lives in your house beside you and your twin sister?" he asked.
"My father, Colonel McIntyre; our house guest, Mrs. Louis C. Brewster, and five servants," she replied. "Grimes,