“I am sure. I’ve seen too many dead men ever to make a mistake. The position of the body, the features—everything told it as plain as day.”
The coroner leaned forward. His eyes gleamed. “And where and how did you happen to see all these dead men, may I ask?”
There was an instant’s second of strain throughout the room. All of us, I think, were siding with Major Dell—from the sheer instinctive distrust of constituted authority that seems to be implanted in our bodies at birth. Dell looked down, and his face was gray.
“In the Argonne,” he said, quietly. The room was deathly still.
Fargo, called immediately after, testified as to his argument with Dell as to the nature of black bass. Dell had left him, he said, to go into the library.
“You were alone in the billiard room when you heard the cry?”
“Yes. But I ran outdoors and joined the others.”
Van Hope testified as to his acquaintance with Major Dell, saying that they had known each other for several months, and that Dell belonged to one of his clubs. He verified Nealman’s story perfectly.
“And what is your occupation, Mr. Pescini?” the coroner asked.