The Red Seal [33]
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?"
"Yes. I heard them scratching at the door leading to the basement as I went upstairs, and so I turned around and went down and opened the door and let them run down into the cellar."
Penfield snapped shut his notebook. "I am greatly obliged, Mrs. Brewster; we will not detain you longer."
The morgue master stepped forward and helped the pretty widow down from the platform.
"Colonel McIntyre is here now," he told the coroner.
"Ah, then bring him in," and Penfield, while awaiting the arrival of the new witness, straightened the papers on his desk.
McIntyre looked straight ahead of him as he walked down the room and stood frowning heavily while the oath was being administered, but his manner, when the coroner addressed him, had regained all the suavity and polish which had first captivated Washington society.
"I have been a resident of Washington for about five years," he said in answer to the coroner's question. "My daughters attended school here after their return from Paris, where they were in a convent for four years. They made their debut last November at our home in this city."
"Were you aware of the wager between your daughter Barbara and James Turnbull?" asked Penfield.
"I heard of it Sunday afternoon but paid little attention," admitted McIntyre. "My daughter Barbara's vagaries I seldom take seriously."
"Was Mr. Turnbull a frequent visitor at your house?"
"Oh, yes."
"Was he engaged to your daughter Helen?"
"No." McIntyre's denial was prompt and firmly spoken. Penfield and Kent, from his new seat nearer the platform, watched the colonel narrowly, but learned nothing from his expression.
"I have heard otherwise," observed the coroner dryly.
"You have been misinformed," McIntyre's manner was short. "I would suggest, Mr. Coroner, that you confine your questions and conjectures to matters pertinent to this inquiry."
Penfield flushed as one of the jurors snickered, but he did not repeat his previous question, asking instead, "Was there good feeling between you and Mr. Turnbull?"
"I never quarreled with him," replied McIntyre. "I really saw little of him as, whenever he called at the house, he came to see one or the other of my daughters, or both."
"When did you last see Mr. Turnbull?" inquired Penfield.
"He was at the house on Sunday and I had quite a talk with him," McIntyre leaned back in his chair and regarded the neat crease in his trousers with critical eyes. "I last saw Turnbull going out of the street door."
"Were you disturbed by the burglar's entrance on Monday night?"
McIntyre shook his head. "I am a heavy sleeper," he said. "I regret very much that my daughter Helen did not at once awaken me on finding the burglar, as she supposed, hiding in the closet. I knew nothing of the affair until Grimes informed me of it, and only reached the police court in time to bring my daughters home from the distressing scene following the identification of the dead burglar as Jimmie Turnbull."
"Colonel McIntyre," Penfield turned over several papers until he found the one he sought. "Mrs. Brewster has testified that while you and she were sitting in the reception room, Mr. Clymer opened the window. Did you close it on leaving the room?"
McIntyre reflected before answering. "I cannot remember doing so," he stated finally. "Clymer was in rather a hurry to leave, and after bidding Mrs. Brewster good night, we went straight out to the car and I drove him to the Saratoga."
"Then you cannot swear to the window having been re-locked?"
"I cannot."
"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?"
"Yes. I heard them scratching at the door leading to the basement as I went upstairs, and so I turned around and went down and opened the door and let them run down into the cellar."
Penfield snapped shut his notebook. "I am greatly obliged, Mrs. Brewster; we will not detain you longer."
The morgue master stepped forward and helped the pretty widow down from the platform.
"Colonel McIntyre is here now," he told the coroner.
"Ah, then bring him in," and Penfield, while awaiting the arrival of the new witness, straightened the papers on his desk.
McIntyre looked straight ahead of him as he walked down the room and stood frowning heavily while the oath was being administered, but his manner, when the coroner addressed him, had regained all the suavity and polish which had first captivated Washington society.
"I have been a resident of Washington for about five years," he said in answer to the coroner's question. "My daughters attended school here after their return from Paris, where they were in a convent for four years. They made their debut last November at our home in this city."
"Were you aware of the wager between your daughter Barbara and James Turnbull?" asked Penfield.
"I heard of it Sunday afternoon but paid little attention," admitted McIntyre. "My daughter Barbara's vagaries I seldom take seriously."
"Was Mr. Turnbull a frequent visitor at your house?"
"Oh, yes."
"Was he engaged to your daughter Helen?"
"No." McIntyre's denial was prompt and firmly spoken. Penfield and Kent, from his new seat nearer the platform, watched the colonel narrowly, but learned nothing from his expression.
"I have heard otherwise," observed the coroner dryly.
"You have been misinformed," McIntyre's manner was short. "I would suggest, Mr. Coroner, that you confine your questions and conjectures to matters pertinent to this inquiry."
Penfield flushed as one of the jurors snickered, but he did not repeat his previous question, asking instead, "Was there good feeling between you and Mr. Turnbull?"
"I never quarreled with him," replied McIntyre. "I really saw little of him as, whenever he called at the house, he came to see one or the other of my daughters, or both."
"When did you last see Mr. Turnbull?" inquired Penfield.
"He was at the house on Sunday and I had quite a talk with him," McIntyre leaned back in his chair and regarded the neat crease in his trousers with critical eyes. "I last saw Turnbull going out of the street door."
"Were you disturbed by the burglar's entrance on Monday night?"
McIntyre shook his head. "I am a heavy sleeper," he said. "I regret very much that my daughter Helen did not at once awaken me on finding the burglar, as she supposed, hiding in the closet. I knew nothing of the affair until Grimes informed me of it, and only reached the police court in time to bring my daughters home from the distressing scene following the identification of the dead burglar as Jimmie Turnbull."
"Colonel McIntyre," Penfield turned over several papers until he found the one he sought. "Mrs. Brewster has testified that while you and she were sitting in the reception room, Mr. Clymer opened the window. Did you close it on leaving the room?"
McIntyre reflected before answering. "I cannot remember doing so," he stated finally. "Clymer was in rather a hurry to leave, and after bidding Mrs. Brewster good night, we went straight out to the car and I drove him to the Saratoga."
"Then you cannot swear to the window having been re-locked?"
"I cannot."