"Some; sorta movin' around an' faint moanin's. But the truth is—we thought she was a foolin' us."
"Yes, sir. Mrs. Pell, she was great for jokin'. Many's the time she's hollered, 'Help! Polly!' and when I'd get there, she'd laugh fit to kill at me. She was that way, sir. She was always foolin' us."
"Is this true?" asked Timken, turning to the others.
They all corroborated Polly's statements. Even Chapin, the lawyer, told of jests and tricks his wealthy client had played on him, and Winston Bannard declared he had suffered so much from his aunt's whims that he had been forced to move away.
"And you, Miss Clyde, did she so tease you?"
"Indeed she did," said Iris. "I think I was her favorite victim. Scarcely a day passed that she did not annoy and distress me by some practical joke. You know about the ink, this noon——" she turned to Mrs. Bowen.
"Yes," said that lady, but she looked grave and thoughtful.
"But surely," pursued the coroner, "one could tell the difference between the screams of a victim in mortal agony, and those of a jest!"
"No, sir," and Polly shook her head. "Mrs. Pell was that clever, she'd make you think she'd been hurt awful, when she was just trickin' you. But, any ways, sir, me an' Purdy we did all we could, and we couldn't get in. Then Campbell, he come, and helped to break down the door——"