.
sir, through Mr. Franklin Van Burnam.”
“And was that the first day of your work there?”
“No, sir; I had been there all the day before.”
“You don’t speak loud enough,” objected the Coroner; “remember that every one in this room wants to hear you.”
She looked up, and with a frightened air surveyed the crowd about her. Publicity evidently made her most uncomfortable, and her voice sank rather than rose.
“Where did you get the key of the house, and by what door did you enter?”
“I went in at the basement, sir, and I got the key at Mr. Van Burnam’s agent in Dey Street. I had to go for it; sometimes they send it to me; but not this time.”
“And now relate your meeting with the policeman on Wednesday morning, in front of Mr. Van Burnam’s house.”
She tried to tell her story, but she made awkward work of it, and they had to ply her with questions to get at the smallest fact. But finally she managed to repeat what we already knew, how she went with the policeman into the house, and how they stumbled upon the dead woman in the parlor.
Further than this they did not question her, and I, Amelia Butterworth, had to sit in silence and see her go back to her seat, redder than before, but with a strangely satisfied air that told me she had escaped more easily than she had expected. And yet Mr. Gryce had been warned that she knew more than appeared, and by one in whom he seemed to have placed some confidence!
The doctor was called next. His testimony was most important, and contained a surprise for me and more than one surprise for the others. After a short preliminary examination, he was requested to state how long the woman had been dead when he was called in to examine her.
“More than twelve and less than eighteen hours,” was his quiet reply.
“Had the rigor mortis set in?”
“No; but it began very soon after.”
“Did you examine the wounds made by the falling shelves and the vases that tumbled with them?”
“I did.”
“Will you describe them?”
He did so.
“And now”—there was a pause in the Coroner’s question which roused us all to its importance, “which of these many serious wounds was in your opinion the cause of her death?”
The witness was accustomed to such scenes, and was perfectly at home in them. Surveying the Coroner with a respectful air, he turned slowly towards the jury and answered in a slow and impressive manner:
“I feel ready to declare, sirs, that none of them did. She was not killed by the falling of the cabinet upon her.”
“Not killed by the falling shelves! Why not? Were they not sufficiently heavy, or did they not strike her in a vital place?”
“They were heavy enough, and they struck her in a way to kill her if she had not been already dead when they fell upon her. As it was, they simply bruised a body from which life had already departed.”
As this was putting it very plainly, many of the crowd who had not been acquainted with these facts previously, showed their interest in a very unmistakable manner; but the Coroner, ignoring these symptoms of growing excitement, hastened to say:
“This is a very serious statement you are making, doctor. If she did not die from the wounds inflicted by the objects which fell upon her, from what cause did she die? Can you say that her death was a natural one, and that the falling of the shelves was merely an unhappy accident following it?”
“No, sir; her death was not natural. She was killed, but not by the falling cabinet.”
“Killed, and not by the cabinet? How then? Was there any other wound upon her which you regard as mortal?”
“Yes, sir. Suspecting that she had perished from other means than appeared, I made a most rigid examination of her body, when I discovered under the hair in the nape of the neck, a minute spot, which, upon probing, I found to be the end of a small, thin point of steel. It had been thrust by a careful hand into the most vulnerable part of the body, and death must have ensued at once.”
This was too much for certain excitable persons present, and a momentary disturbance arose, which, however, was nothing to that in my own breast.
So! so! it was her neck that had been pierced, and not her heart. Mr. Gryce had allowed us to think it was the latter, but it was not this fact which stupefied me, but the skill and diabolical coolness of the man who had inflicted this death-thrust.
After order had been restored, which I will say was very soon, the Coroner, with an added gravity of tone, went on with his questions:
“Did you recognize this bit of steel as belonging to any instrument in the medical profession?”
“No; it was of too untempered steel to have been manufactured for any thrusting or cutting purposes. It was of the commonest kind, and had broken short off in the wound. It was the end only that I found.”
“Have you this end with you,—the point, I mean, which you found imbedded at the base of the dead woman’s brain?”
“I have, sir”; and he handed it over to the jury. As they passed it along, the Coroner remarked:
“Later we will show you the remaining portion of this instrument of death,” which did not tend to allay the general excitement. Seeing this, the Coroner humored the growing interest by pushing on his inquiries.
“Doctor,” he asked, “are you prepared to say how long a time elapsed between the infliction of this fatal wound and those which disfigured her?”
“No, sir, not exactly; but some little time.”
Some little time, when the murderer was in the house only ten minutes! All looked their surprise, and, as if the Coroner had divined this feeling of general curiosity, he leaned forward and emphatically repeated:
“More than ten minutes?”
The doctor, who had every appearance of realizing the importance of his reply, did not hesitate. Evidently his mind was quite made up.
“Yes; more than ten minutes.”
This was the shock I received from his testimony.
I remembered what the clock had revealed to me, but I did not move a muscle of my face. I was learning self-control under these repeated surprises.
“This is an unexpected statement,” remarked the Coroner. “What reasons have you to urge in explanation of it?”
“Very simple and very well known ones; at least, among the profession. There was too little blood seen, for the wounds to have been inflicted before death or within a few minutes after it. Had the woman been living when they were made, or even had she been but a short time dead, the floor would have been deluged with the blood gushing from so many and such serious injuries. But the effusion was slight, so slight that I noticed it at once, and came to the conclusions mentioned before I found the mark of the stab that occasioned death.”
“I see, I see! And was that the reason you called in two neighboring physicians to view the body before it was removed from the house?”
“Yes, sir; in so important a matter, I wished to have my judgment confirmed.”
“And these physicians were——”
“Dr. Campbell, of 110 East —— Street, and Dr. Jacobs, of —— Lexington Avenue.”
“Are these gentlemen here?” inquired the Coroner of an officer who stood near.
“They are, sir.”
“Very