Stillman began rubbing his palms together with what was intended to be business-like briskness; he stepped up and down the dark hall, peering right and left. But for all his assumption of confidence, his nervousness was very apparent.
"You say," said he to Osborne, "that the scrubwoman unlocked the street door. Very good. That shows that it was fast at all events. Now what other means are there of entering the building?"
"None, except by the fire-escapes and windows. But the windows on this floor are all secured except for those at the front."
"Except for those at the front." The young coroner paused in his hand rubbing. "Would it not have been possible for the person or persons who did this murder to enter by one of those?"
"It would have been possible," returned the big headquarters man, "but no sane person would do it. They'd have to swarm up the face of the building in full view of anyone that might be passing at the time."
"Exactly," said Stillman, stiffening under what he was half inclined to consider a rebuff. "Well, that eliminates that possibility. Now to the next one. Who occupied the building besides the murdered man?"
"A man named Berg keeps a delicatessen store on the first floor. His place in no way communicates with the rest of the building. The third and fourth floors are used for storage purposes by a furrier. Except in the spring and fall, so Mrs. Dwyer tells me, he seldom visits the building."
"Is there any way of getting in from the top of the house—the roof?" asked the coroner.
A look of something like respect came into Osborne's face. Clearly the question was one which he considered worth while.
"There is a scuttle," he replied. "The bolt is rusted and broken; it has probably not been fastened for months, perhaps years."