“I don’t think a wounded man could have uttered that scream. It was too loud and strong—given by a man whose strength was still largely unimpaired.”
The coroner leaned nearer. “How further would you describe it?”
“It was a distinct cry for help,” Fargo answered. “The word he said was ‘Help’—I heard it distinctly. But it wasn’t a cry of any one mortally injured. If anything, it was a cry of—fear.”
“Where did it come from?”
“From the lagoon.”
The coroner’s eyes snapped. “If you knew it was from the lagoon why did you ask Mr. Killdare, when he encountered you last night, where it was from.”
Fargo stiffened, meeting his gaze. “I wasn’t sure last night, Mr. Weldon,” he answered. “I knew it was somewhere in that direction. When Mr. Killdare said it was from the lagoon I instantly knew he was right. I can’t say just how I knew. All the testimony I’ve heard to-day proves the same thing.”
“No one wants you to tell what other people have testified, Mr. Fargo,” the coroner reproved him. “We want to know what you saw with your own eyes and heard with your own ears and what you thought at the time, not now. To go further. You think that the cry was uttered by a man whose strength was unimpaired. A strong, full-lunged cry. Moreover, it was given in deadly fear. Does that suggest anything in your mind?”
“I don’t see what you are getting at.”
“You say it was a long, full-voiced cry. Or did you say it was long?”