Then Dr. Balman and Dr. Hajek were called in turn, to testify as to the causes of death, first of Mr. Jackson’s, and later of Dr. Letheny’s. They used technical terms, and told the methods of determining the length of time each had been dead before discovery. It was a difficult half hour for both of them, knowing Dr. Letheny as they had, and they both looked quite exhausted when the coroner had finished with them. Dr. Balman was frankly mopping his high forehead and even Dr. Hajek’s stolidity was shaken, for his eyes darted nervously about him and he retreated to the back of the room, where he lit a cigarette with unsteady hands.
Then Miss Maida Day was called and as she took the witness chair my hands gripped each other and I watched her with strained attention.
She testified very coolly, though. No, she had not seen Dr. Letheny when he called to visit his patient at twelve thirty. She had been busy in one of the sick rooms. Yes, she had stepped out on the porch for a breath of air. Yes, she had attended the dinner party given by Miss Letheny. The coroner seemed to be supplied with all the topics of conversation of that dinner and Maida agreed imperviously to every one of them, even to the fact that she had said she wanted money.
“I believe your words were ‘I’d give my very soul for money’?” inquired the coroner nastily.
“I think I did say something like that,” said Maida quietly, though a tiny flush mounted to her cheeks. “Of course, I didn’t mean exactly that. One often exaggerates one’s statements.”
The coroner did not comment on that but looked expressively at the jury.
Then she corroborated, under his questions, every detail I had told of our finding of the body of Mr. Jackson and of our subsequent actions. He made his questions very searching and important indeed, and I felt something between a fool and a liar during the process; I am not accustomed to having my word doubted.
“Miss Letheny answered the telephone, when I called for the doctor,” Maida explained, “and said that she couldn’t rouse him, and when I said we must have him immediately she went away from the telephone and when she came back told me that he was not in the house and she didn’t know where he had gone.”
“Then you telephoned to Dr. Balman?”
“Yes.”
“Did he answer immediately?”
“No. I think he must have been asleep. When he did answer I told him simply of Mr. Jackson’s unexpected death and that we could not locate Dr. Letheny.”
“About how long was it until Dr. Balman arrived?”
“I’m not sure. I was—agitated naturally. But I should say about fifteen minutes.”
“How was he dressed when he arrived?”
“In—a dinner jacket, I think—and slicker. It was raining, you know.”
“Miss Day, have you lately lost a cuff link?” asked the coroner, without warning.
I was watching Maida closely and saw the little flush that had been in her face drain steadily away; her eyes darkened but did not falter in their steadfast gaze.
“Yes,” she replied quietly.
“Is this it?” He placed a small object in her hand that I could not see but had no doubt was the square of lapis.
“It—seems to be,” she said, after a pause during which we others scarcely breathed. “It resembles the one I lost.”
“Do you think you can say that it is your cuff link?” asked the coroner smoothly.
“Why—yes. At least, it is identical with mine.”
“Can you explain its presence in Dr. Letheny’s coat pocket when he was found—dead?”
“No,” said Maida steadily, her steel-blue eyes meeting the coroner’s directly.
“When did you discover its loss?”
If possible, Maida went still whiter, and her nostrils took on a pinched look.
“Shortly after I had returned from the porch,” she said steadily enough, but her eyes went to the back of the room for a brief instant.
“How did this get into Dr. Letheny’s possession?” persisted the coroner.
“I do not know. I suppose I—dropped it. Lost it from my cuff, and Dr. Letheny must have—found it.”
“In the dark?” inquired the coroner suavely.
Maida flushed again but her chin went higher.
“I do not know.”
He continued to question her at some length but with no success, and finally he dismissed her, with a grudging “Thank you.”
Corole Letheny was the next witness and I settled myself more comfortably in my chair to listen. She was extremely self-possessed, and sat down as gracefully as if she had been paying a call. She looked rather nice, or would have, but for the clear beauty of the face that had just preceded her. Maida’s immaculate uniform, her clear white skin, her amazing blue eyes under their straight black eyebrows, that little, aristocratic air which somehow always surrounded her, made Corole seem a little tarnished, a little tawdry, a little theatrical, in spite of her perfect grooming and her expensive clothing.
By that time the repetition of the details of that oft-referred-to dinner party were growing stale and I did not pay the strictest attention to the first questions of the coroner. I was aroused, though, by hearing him say suavely:
“You will pardon me, Miss Letheny, but were you and Dr. Letheny on the best of terms?”
She stared at him, her yellowish eyes widening and reflecting green lights from her hat brim.
“What do you mean?”
“Following the departure of your guests that night, did you not have a heated disagreement?”
Her eyes slowly left the coroner and went to Huldah in an exceedingly unpleasant gaze.
“I suppose my maid told you that. Yes, we did quarrel. Louis—was not an easy man to get along with.”
“What was the subject of your quarrel that night?”
“About as usual. Nothing in particular.”
“Can you recall any of the exact—er—subjects?”
“Why—no,” said Corole slowly. “That is, he told me I was running the house too extravagantly. He always said that.”
The coroner surveyed her for a moment or two.
“Is this your revolver?” he said suddenly, reaching for the shiny revolver and holding it before her.
She started, quite visibly. One brown hand,
