"But, Doctor Westbrook," insisted Mr. Merkel, "was there no one else in the hall? Did you hear no other footsteps? Didn't you see or hear some one else when the door was thrust wide open? Surely the murderer couldn't have left so quickly without attracting the attention of some one of you. It is simply incredible." He grasped the arms of his chair, leaning forward in his eagerness, his heavy countenance overshadowed with perplexity.
As the Doctor started to reply, Converse glanced sharply toward him; when Lynden's name was presently mentioned, shifting his scrutiny to that gentleman.
"I must say no to all those questions," was the Doctor's reply. "I saw nobody but De Sanchez. I heard nothing but his footsteps, and the noise he made in collapsing through this door. Ask Jim Lynden, there; he was in the hall at the time; he followed so closely behind De Sanchez that he arrived here before the man died."
Lynden merely shook his head, hopelessly, as if he had no vocabulary to express himself. The Coroner was impressed by the young man's mien, and after regarding him a moment with a scowl, turned again to Doctor Westbrook.
"Was any one else present, Doctor?" he asked.
The physician's face was suddenly illumined.
"Yes; why, certainly. Howe!" he exclaimed. "Howe, where were you?"
The man, who apparently had been a stranger to everybody in the room, now advanced.
"I was in there—your laboratory—looking into the light-well."
Converse noiselessly disappeared into the room indicated, returning in a few seconds to eye the stranger with increased interest.