“Was it a spring lock?”
“No, Sir.” Mitchell drew an old-fashioned brass key from his pocket and handed it to the coroner. “That lock, Sir, was made by hand many years ago. It’s the kind that if you lock the door, either from the inside or the outside, the door could not be opened unless you had the key to unlock it.”
“Then, Inspector, some person, on leaving the Baird house, locked the door on the outside, and thereby locked in any person or persons who might have been in the house at that time?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Ump!” Penfield picked up the brass key and handed it to the foreman of the jury. “Did you find finger marks on the key?” he asked.
“No, not one.” Mitchell hesitated. “Whoever handled the key wore gloves.”
“Very likely.” Penfield spoke more briskly. “What did you discover inside the house, Inspector?”
“We found no one in the hall; so we walked into the parlor which is on the right of the front door. No one was there, so we kept on through the door opening into the rear hall, and from there walked into the library.” Mitchell paused dramatically. “There we found Miss Baird’s dead body lying huddled up in a big chair in front of her tea table.”
“Had she been taking tea?”
“Yes, judging from the plate of sandwiches and cakes, and her nearly empty teacup.” Mitchell explained in detail. “There was a plate in front of her on which lay a half-eaten peach.”