I admired the appearance of the young man. Of an athletic type, though perhaps not specially trained, he was well set up, and had that assured air that belongs to so many young New York men.
He especially exhibited self-possession and self-control, and though perhaps he gave more the effect of physical force than of mental strength, yet to my mind he showed bravery and courage both in manner and speech.
Though in no way conspicuous, his clothes were correct, and hung well on his rather graceful figure. Although I had heard he was an artist, he showed no trace of Bohemianism in his make-up. He was rather, it seemed to me, of the type that frequents our best clubs or restaurants.
But what I liked best about the man was his very evident affection and loyalty toward his cousin. As the coroner had said, there had been no definite accusation, and yet it was plain to be seen that as the evidence seemed to point toward either the guilt or the complicity of Janet Pembroke, the jurymen were being influenced by it.
The coroner asked George more questions.
"You carry a latch-key to this apartment?" he asked.
"Yes. I lived here until a few months ago, and I've still kept the key. I go in and out as I like. The chain is never put on in the daytime."
"Is it always on at night?"
"Yes. When I lived here I was usually the last one in at night, and I put on the chain. Since I left, my cousin has told me that she always puts it on when she retires at night."