Next, Luckstone was seen to jump out of an automobile and tear up the steps as if afraid that his ultimate fate depended on the moments required to reach his clients. Finally Coroner Hart entered the building, and was immediately accosted by the reporters.
"What's coming off?" they inquired.
"I don't know myself," he said truthfully. "Britz seems to think something's going to happen."
It was ten o'clock precisely when Britz, Manning, Greig and the coroner passed from the chief's office into the room in which the suspects in the Whitmore mystery were gathered. They found Luckstone in command of the situation.
"What does this mean?" he demanded, advancing toward Britz's desk.
"It means that the coroner is about to resume his preliminary inquiry into the death of Herbert Whitmore," the detective informed him.
"And have I been summoned here as a witness or as counsel to the accused?"
"As counsel, of course," said Britz.
"Then as the attorney for Mrs. Collins and as the legal adviser of the other witnesses I wish to inform you that this proposed examination is utterly useless. I have instructed my clients not to answer any questions."
Britz's eyes swept the faces of the witnesses in a look of sharp scrutiny. He found Mrs. Collins outwardly composed. The dark rings about her eyes betrayed a night of sleeplessness, but otherwise she looked as fresh as if she had just stepped out of her private boudoir, instead of a narrow, stuffy cell in the woman's wing of the Tombs. Evidently she had prepared herself for a great test and had summoned all the stubborn courage of one resigned to suffering, yet who meant to hide her agony from the eyes of the world.