"Don't say any more," Cummings cut her off. And Dykeman mumbled,
"Had the whole history of your marital infelicities all over the shop. Too bad such things had to be dragged in. Man seems to be a worthy person—"
"Doctor Bowman told me positively," I broke in, "on the Sunday night the body was found, that death must have occurred before midnight."
"Gave that as his opinion—his opinion—then," Cummings corrected me.
"Yes," I accepted the correction. "That was his opinion before he quarreled with Worth. Now he—"
"Slandering Bowman won't get you anywhere, Boyne," Cummings said. "He wasn't here to testify at the inquest. Man alive, you know that nothing but sworn testimony counts."
"I wouldn't believe that man's oath," I said shortly.
"Think you'll find a jury will," smirked Cummings, and Dykeman croaked in,
"A mighty credible witness—a mighty credible witness!"
While these pleasant remarks flew back and forth, a thumping and bumping had made itself heard in the hall. Now something came against our door, as though a large bundle had been thrown at the panels. The knob rattled, jerked, was turned, and a man appeared on the threshold, swaying unsteadily. Two others, who seemed to have been holding him back, let go all at once, and he lurched a step into the room. Doctor Anthony Bowman.