With one accord the Coroner, Inspector Mitchell and Leonard McLane wheeled around and stared at the carved four-post mahogany bedstead which occupied one side of the large room. It was evident that the bed had been slept in; the pillows were tumbled about and the bedclothes turned back in disorder. A dressing gown lay on the floor not far from the bed. No papers of any kind were on the bed, but on the right side an ominous red stain had spread a zigzag course from the under sheet to the carpet.
Curtis broke the long pause. “I take it the papers are not on the bed now, judging from your silence,” he said. “Was any one, beside yourself, Hollister, aware that Meredith had drawn up this, what did you call it—”
“Prenuptial agreement,” interposed Hollister.
“The witnesses knew—”
“And who were the witnesses?” asked Mitchell, notebook in hand.
“Miss Lucille Hull and Gerald Armstrong.” Hollister glanced keenly about the bedroom and moved as if to cross to a mahogany secretary which stood near one of the windows. “Perhaps they are in Meredith’s secretary—”
“Just a moment, Mr. Hollister,” Coroner Penfield held out a detaining hand. “Nothing is to be touched in this room. Inspector Mitchell and I will conduct a thorough search later on. In the meantime have you any notes, any memorandum of the agreement signed by Meredith last night which you could give us?”
Hollister nodded. “I made a rough copy, and if I remember correctly I stuffed it in the pocket of my dinner jacket. I’ll get it,” and he started for the door, only to be halted at the threshold by a question from Coroner Penfield.
“After the signing of the agreement were you the first to leave Mr. Meredith, or did the witnesses go first?” he asked.
Hollister thought a moment. “Gerald Armstrong left immediately,” he said. “Miss Hull and I started to go at the same time, but Meredith called her back.”