“How did you get in?”
“My wife, she open ze door.”
“And you saw nobody as you came in?”
He paused almost imperceptibly. “No, sar,” he answered. But I was now convinced that he was holding something back.
“Very well; you can go,” said the Coroner. The fellow bowed himself out with a good deal of quiet dignity.
“I kinder fancy that man knows something he won’t tell,” said the Coroner. “Now, we’ve seen every one but the workmen,” he continued, wearily, mopping his forehead. “I don’t believe one of them knows a thing; still, I’ve got to go through with it, I suppose,” and going to the door he beckoned them all in.
There were five of them, including the foreman, and they appeared to be quiet, respectable young men. After looking at the dead man intently for some minutes, they all asserted that they had never laid eyes on him before.
“Now have any of you noticed during the three days you have been working here anybody who might have taken the key, kept it for some hours, and returned it without your noticing it?” inquired the Coroner.
“We’ve seen no strangers,” the foreman replied, cautiously.
“Who have you seen?” The foreman was evidently prepared for this question.