XXIX
The mood of the Coroner changed with the afternoon session. He was curter in speech and less patient with the garrulity of his witnesses. Perhaps he dreaded the struggle which he foresaw awaited him.
He plunged at once into the topic he had left unfinished and at the precise point where he had left off. Wealthy had resumed her place on the stand.
“And where did you put this soothing mixture after you had prepared it?”
“Where I always did—on the shelf hanging in the corner on the further side of the bed—the side towards the windows. I did this so that it would not be picked up by mistake for a glass of water left on his stand.”
“Tell that to the jury again, Mrs. Starr. That the soothing medicine of which you speak was in a glass on the shelf we all can see indicated on the chart above your head, and plain water in a glass standing on the table on the near side of the bed.”
“Excuse me, Doctor Jones, I did not mean to say that there was any glass of water on the small stand that night. There was not. He did not seem to want it, so I left the water in a pitcher on the table by the hearth. I only meant that it being my usual custom to have it there I got in the habit of putting anything in the way of medicine as far removed from it as possible.”
“Mrs. Starr, when did you prepare this soothing medicine as you call it?”
“Soon after I entered the room.”
“Before Mr. Bartholomew slept?”