"Humph! that is odd," quoth Mr. Ferris, with the testiness of an irritable man who sees himself contradicted in a publicly expressed theory.
"Very odd," repeated the coroner; "so odd, I am inclined to think he did not sit there every moment of the time. It is but a step from the court-house here; he might well have taken the trip and returned while you wiped your eye-glasses or was otherwise engaged."
Mr. Byrd did not see fit to answer this.
"The tramp is an ugly-looking customer," he remarked, in what was almost a careless tone of voice.
Mr. Ferris covered with his hand the pile of loose change that was yet lying on the table, and shortly observed:
"A tramp to commit such a crime must be actuated either by rage or cupidity; that you will acknowledge. Now the fellow who struck this woman could not have been excited by any sudden anger, for the whole position of her body when found proves that she had not even turned to face the intruder, much less engaged in an altercation with him. Yet how could it have been money he was after, when a tempting bit like this remained undisturbed upon the table?"
And Mr. Ferris, with a sudden gesture, disclosed to view the pile of silver coin he had been concealing.
The young detective shook his head but lost none of his seeming indifference. "That is one of the little anomalies of criminal experience that we were talking about this morning," he remarked. "Perhaps the fellow was frightened and lost his head, or perhaps he really heard some one at the door, and was obliged to escape without reaping any of the fruits of his crime."
"Perhaps and perhaps," retorted Mr. Ferris, who was a quick man, and who, once settled in a belief, was not to be easily shaken out of it.
"However that may be," continued Mr. Byrd, without seeming to notice the irritating interruption, "I still think that the tramp, rather than the humpback, will be the man to occupy your future attention."