Radnor himself was next called to the stand. As he took his place a murmur of excitement swept over the room and there was a general straining forward. He was composed and quiet, and very very sober—every bit of animation had left his face.
The coroner commenced immediately with the subject of the quarrel with his father on the night before the murder, and Radnor answered all the questions frankly and openly. He made no attempt to gloss over any of the details. What put the matter in a peculiarly bad light, was the fact that the cause of the quarrel had been over a question of money. Rad had requested his father to settle a definite amount on him so that he would be independent in the future, and his father had refused. They had lost their tempers and had gone further than usual; in telling the story Radnor openly took the blame upon himself where, in several instances, I strongly suspected that it should have been laid at the door of the Colonel. But in spite of the fact that the story revealed a pitiable state of affairs as between father and son, his frankness in assuming the responsibility won for him more sympathy than had been shown since the murder.
"How did the clock get broken?" the coroner asked.
"My father knocked it off the mantelpiece onto the floor."
"He did not throw it at you as Solomon surmised?"
Radnor raised his head with a glint of anger.
"It fell on the floor and broke."
"Have you often had quarrels with your father?"
"Occasionally. He had a quick temper and always wished his own way, and I was not so patient with him as I should have been."
"What did you quarrel about?"