Thus the neighbours.
But the Police thought differently. The report of the Post Patrolman who first appeared upon the scene of the tragedy included a vivid description of the demeanour of the two ladies; and the whole force, from the Inspector down, determined to discover which was guilty. To them the death of Eric Stannard was merely a case, but from the nature of things it was, or would become, a celebrated case, and as such, they were elated over their connection with it.
In due course, the Coroner’s Inquest took place, and was held in the big studio where Eric Stannard had met his death.
Owing to the personality of Coroner Lamson, this was not the perfunctory proceeding that inquests sometimes are, but served to bring out the indicative facts of the situation.
It was the day after the murder and the room was partially filled with the officers of the law, the jury and a crowd of morbidly curious strangers. It seemed sacrilege to give over the splendid apartment to the demands of the occasion, and many of the audience sat timidly on the edge of the luxurious chairs or stared at the multitudinous pictures, statues and artistic paraphernalia. In the original plan the studio had been a ballroom, but its fine North light and great size fitted it for the workroom of the master painter. Nor was the brush the only implement of Eric Stannard. He had experimented with almost equal success in pastel work, he had done some good modelling and of late he had become deeply interested in etching. And it had been one of his own etching needles that had been the direct cause of his untimely death.
This fact was testified to by Doctor Keith, who further detailed his being called to the house the night before. He stated that he had arrived within fifteen minutes after Mr. Stannard—as the family had told him—had breathed his last. Examination of the body had disclosed that death was caused by the piercing of the jugular vein and the weapon, which was not removed until later, was a tool known as an Etcher’s needle, a slender, sharp instrument, set in a Wooden handle, the whole being not unlike a brad-awl. On being shown the needle, the Doctor identified it as the instrument of death.
Blake, the footman, was next questioned. He was of calm demeanour and impassive countenance, but his answers were alert and intelligent.
“Too much so,” thought Mr. Robert Roberts, a Police Detective, who had been put upon the case, to his own decided satisfaction. “That man knows what he’s talking about, if he is a wooden-face.”
Now, Roberts, called by his chums, Bobsy, was himself alert and intelligent, and therefore recognised those traits in others. He listened attentively as Coroner Lamson put his queries.
“You were the first to discover your master’s dead body?”