“You had no idea what he meant?”
“Well, sir, I thought he meant to refer to the story that has been about—the story of some robberies not far from where he lived. He often used to say he knew who the thief was.”
At this ingenuous reply, which slipped out of the witness’s mouth without her having any idea of the bombshell she was throwing down, a great sensation shook the listening crowd, and called forth cries of silence from the police.
“He was much excited, you say? Did he seem otherwise in his usual state? I mean, did he speak as a man speaks who is in perfect health, in perfect command of himself?” asked the coroner, much to the disappointment of the listeners, who were more interested in the mystery lying underneath the story than in the death of Jem Stickels.
“Oh, yes! He seemed quite himself. We were surprised to find him like that.”
“And—was he sober?”
“Quite sober, I should say.”
“Did he say anything about the blow he had received? Did he make any complaint?”
“None while I was there.”
“And now, madam, I must ask you another question. How far is it from your house to the spot where the deceased was found?”