"Glad you could come, Mitchell," he said. "Let me put you in possession of all facts so far known," and he repeated all that Henry had told him. Mitchell listened in silence; only the gleam in his eyes attested his interest, as his face remained expressionless. And that gleam deepened as he stepped into the elevator and examined Spencer. When he came out he was wrapping his handkerchief around a knife. Exchanging a glance with the coroner, he turned to Vincent.
"Show my men over the house," he directed, "and you," addressing Henry, "inform Mr. Whitney that Coroner Penfield and I would like to see him at once."
"I am here." Whitney, who had entered the hall unnoticed a second before, joined the group. "What can I do for you?"
"Answer a few questions," and Penfield, observing the strain under which he was laboring, pushed a chair in his direction. "Sit down, Mr. Whitney." He turned back to Henry. "You need not wait," and the chauffeur reluctantly went down the stairs. The coroner waited an appreciable moment before again speaking to Whitney. "Was Mr. Spencer visiting you?" he questioned.
"Only for the night."
"When did you see him last?"
"About midnight."
"And where was that?"
"In the bedroom across the way," pointing to it, and the detective crossed the hall and entered the room, the door of which was closed.
"And what was Mr. Spencer doing the last time you saw him?" asked the coroner, with quiet persistence.