“Why until last night?” questioned Hollister, and Penfield frowned at the interruption.
“Last night—he died,” replied McLane dryly, and would have added more, but Penfield again cut in on the conversation.
“Can you place the exact time at which you found Meredith, Doctor Curtis?” he asked, turning to the surgeon.
“A quarter past two this morning,” answered Curtis. “Meredith was dead when I tripped over his body.” He paused. “I should say, however, that he died only a few minutes before my arrival.”
“How do you know that?” demanded Hollister, and McLane glanced at the little lawyer in some surprise; his manner was far from courteous.
“By the warmth of his body and its limp condition.” Curtis spoke quietly, his sightless eyes turned toward Hollister. “Besides, I heard Meredith coming down the corridor as I came up the staircase.”
“Did he walk briskly?” asked Hollister before Inspector Mitchell could speak.
Curtis shook his head. “He appeared to drag one foot after the other; then I heard a soft thud—”
“Probably staggered along the hall and fell,” broke in Mitchell.
“But where was he going?” persisted Hollister, not deterred by Coroner Penfield’s irritation at his continuous questions.