“Did you spend the whole half hour in smoking?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Not leaving your room at all?”
“Oh, I left my room several times, going no further, though, than the end of my small hall.”
“Why did you do this?”
“Because Mr. Bartholomew had been so very peremptory about anybody coming to his room. I had every confidence in Wealthy, but I could not help going now and then to see if she was still on the watch.”
“With what result?”
“She was always there. I did not speak to her, not wishing her to know that I was keeping tabs on her. But each time I went I could see the hem of her dress protruding from behind the screen and knew that she, like myself, was waiting for the half hour to be up. As soon as it was, I stepped boldly down the hall, telling Wealthy as I passed that I should make short work of putting the old gentleman to bed and for her to be ready to follow me in a very few minutes. And I kept my word. Mr. Bartholomew was still sitting in his chair when I went in. He had the two documents in his hand and asked me to place them, together with the other papers, on the small stand at the side of the bed. And there they stayed up to the time I gave place to Wealthy. This is all I have to tell about that night. I went from his room to mine and slept till we were all wakened by the ill news that Mr. Bartholomew had been taken worse and was rapidly sinking.”
There was an instant’s lull during which I realized my own disappointment. I had heard nothing that I had not known before. Then the Coroner said:
“Did your duties in Mr. Bartholomew’s room during these months of illness include at any time the handling of his medicines?”