The Coroner laid the key on the table before him, as if postponing its further consideration and then called Doctor Post as a witness.
The young man, who had been again summoned from his office, gave his testimony in a fussy, self-important sort of way.
His evidence agreed with all Doctor Masterson had said, and continued thus:
"I felt, like Doctor Masterson, that the effects were not quite those of apoplexy, and so made a thorough examination for other causes of death. At the base of the brain I discovered a small black speck. It proved to be the end of a long pin, which was so deeply imbedded as to be almost invisible. It is not strange that Doctor Masterson should not have discovered it, as it was completely covered by the long, thick white hair of the head."
"This pin, you say, is a hat-pin?"
"A part of a hat-pin. It was evidently inserted while the victim was asleep. It was then, either intentionally or accidentally, broken in half. Owing to a peculiar tendency of human flesh, the pin was probably drawn in a trifle deeper than when left there by the criminal's hand, and thus almost disappeared from view."
"And it was this stab of a pin that caused death?"
"Undoubtedly and immediately."
Except for a few technical points regarding the cause and effect of cerebral hemorrhage, that was the gist of Doctor Post's evidence.
As the case was indisputably a murder, there being no possibility of suicide, the next thing was to discover the criminal.
Coroner Ross went about his work in a most methodical and systematic manner. His witnesses were called, sworn, questioned, and dismissed with a despatch that amazed me.
The agent of The Hammersleigh, who also lived in the house, was examined next.
"Your name?" asked the Coroner.
"James Whitaker."
"Your occupation?"
"I am agent and superintendent of The Hammersleigh. I live in an apartment on the first floor."
"How long have you had Robert Pembroke as a tenant?"
"Mr. Pembroke has occupied this apartment for three years."
"Of how many members did the family consist?"
"Until about three months ago, there were three in the family. Mr. Pembroke, his niece and nephew. Also, one servant was kept, usually a colored woman. About three months ago, the nephew, Mr. Lawrence, moved away."
"They have proved satisfactory as tenants?"
"Exceedingly so, with one exception. It was always difficult to collect from Mr. Pembroke the money due for his rent."
"He was not a poor man?"
"Quite the contrary. He was a very wealthy man, but he hated to part with his money."
"When did you see him last?"
"Yesterday afternoon. About two o'clock I came up here to ask him for his rent which was overdue."
"He paid you?"
"Yes; he paid me with bills of large denomination, taken from a very large roll of similar bills. He must have had about ten thousand dollars in the roll."
I listened with great interest to this evidence. Surely that roll of bills which Mr. Whitaker saw was the money noted on the memorandum I had found.
"Were the bills in a rubber band, and was a slip of paper with them?" I asked, for the inquest was conducted informally, and anyone spoke who chose.
"Yes," replied Whitaker, looking at me with a glance that savored of suspicion; "how did you know?"
I resented his manner, and then I suddenly remembered that I was but a new tenant, and the agent was justified in his desire to question me.
"Mr. Landon will be examined later," said the Coroner, with his authoritative air; "we will continue with the present witness. What can you say, Mr. Whitaker, of the general character of Mr. Pembroke?"
"I know little of him. As a tenant he made me no trouble at all. He never complained to me of the apartment, the management or the service. As a business man, I have no reason to think him other than upright and honorable. Further than this I had no acquaintance with him. He was not a man to invite acquaintance."
"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.