“Where do you get evidence, Mr. Berg?” asked Avice, eager interest and curiosity shining in her brown eyes.
“Wherever I may pick it up. I must question the police further and I must endeavor to trace that telephone call, though that is a hard matter usually. Then, also, I must question all members of this household. As to his habits, I mean, and his whereabouts today. He left home this morning, as usual?”
“Quite as usual,” broke in Mrs. Black, before Avice could reply. “I was probably the one who saw him last as he departed. I went to the door with him, and he,—he kissed me good-by.” Mrs. Black’s handkerchief was pressed into service, but she went on, clearly; “we were to have been married next month. Our engagement had been announced.”
“And you heard nothing from Mr. Trowbridge during the day?”
“No,” said Avice, taking up the tale again; “uncle told me before he left he would be home by five, as I was to help him with his work. He is a naturalist, out of office hours, and I assist with his cataloguing. Then, when he didn’t come at five, I was worried, and I kept on being worried until—until—” and here the girl broke down and buried her face again in the sofa pillows.
“And you weren’t worried?” asked Coroner Berg, turning his pale blue eyes on the housekeeper.
“No,” and Mrs. Black’s voice was cool and composed; “I supposed he was merely detained by some business matter. I had no reason to fear any harm had come to him.”
“When did you last see him?” went on the coroner, turning to Judge Hoyt.
“Let me see; it was—yes, it was last Friday. I was at his office consulting with him about some business, and promised to report today. But as I was called to Philadelphia today on an important matter, I wrote him that I would come here to this house to see him this evening, and give him the report he wanted.”
“And you went to Philadelphia today?”