Mrs. Prescott.—“Nothing! Nothing at all!”
The Coroner thanked her and the next witness was summoned. If summoned can correctly describe the procedure.
“Constance Webb!”
From between two sturdy members of the Sussex County Police came she whom we had known as Marshall. Still sensation!
The reporters bent to their tasks with redoubled energy—sweetened by the thoughts of circulations to come. A low hum buzzed round the room at the appearance of this new witness. Anthony clutched at my arm.
“Look,” he muttered. Inspector Baddeley had come round to the side of Dr. Anselm and was whispering something to him. I saw the Coroner nod his head three or four times in seeming acquiescence. Baddeley appeared to be explaining something, for I saw the doctor give a final approving movement of the head, and then turn and address the witness.
“What’s afoot?” I interrogated.
“I think I know,” answered Anthony. “Listen!”
“Marshall,” as it seems the more natural for me to call her, gave her evidence in a low, toneless, almost inaudible voice. Several times the Coroner had to request her to speak up. Up to Saturday last she had been a maid in the employ of Sir Charles and Lady Considine, and among her duties was the task of sweeping and cleaning a number of the Manor rooms first thing in the morning—as she had done on the Saturday morning in question. She had eventually reached the billiard room! Here the witness was observed to falter and excitement ran high in the “Swan’s Nest.” Dr. Anselm took a hand.
“What did you find when you got to the billiard room?”