"I did not notice."
"Not notice?" in a tone of intense surprise. "Did you not see it?"
"Sir, when I had arrived at that point I was so shocked by the sight in the Doctor's office that I did not observe the condition of doors or windows."
"Well, as you passed the door to Room 5—Mr. Nettleton's general office—you had not yet heard or beheld anything shocking, had you? Did you notice whether it was open or closed?"
There was an enthralling significance in the witness's manner which everybody present felt, and a conviction was natural that the young man knew something that he was resolved at any cost not to reveal. It was exasperating that the Coroner should so play about the mainspring of the witness's discomposure—as he plainly was doing—without being able to light upon a point that must force from him some admission, sufficient at least to serve as a fulcrum whereby the rest might be pried from him.
"Come, Mr. Lynden, the jury awaits your answer."
The witness's reply came hoarsely, as if it were indeed literally dragged forth:
"It was not closed—entirely."
"Ah, one of the 'more or less' doors: which was it, more or less?"
"I do not understand."