Young Felton answers in the briefest phrases the questions of the coroner. He had seen no strangers in the bank in the last few days. He had last seen Mr. Hathaway the afternoon before the tragedy, when the bank closed for the day. On the afternoon of Memorial Day—
The witness stops abruptly and a flush overspreads his features as he nervously bites his tawny mustache.
“On the afternoon of Memorial Day,” invites the coroner.
“I was around town as usual,” finishes Felton.
For some reason the momentary hesitation of the witness apparently impresses Mr. Lord, and he seems disposed to make minute inquiry.
“Where did you say you were on the afternoon of Memorial Day?” he again interrogates.
Ralph Felton looks straight at the coroner an instant, and then his gaze wanders over the stilled room and finally rests upon his father, who, roused from the impassive attitude in which he has sunk after completing his own testimony, casts a startled look upon his son.
The sudden hush that has involuntarily accompanied Mr. Lord’s question is intensified, as father and son gaze at each other, apparently oblivious of the unanswered coroner.