For one long minute Coroner Penfield regarded her. The silence in the big library grew oppressive. Somehow Curtis found himself upon his feet and by Anne’s side.
“Did your hair,” went on Penfield remorselessly, “get caught around that jacket button when you pressed your ear against Meredith’s chest to find out if his heart was still beating?”
As one stricken Anne gazed dumbly at the coroner. Curtis’ deep voice cut the silence.
“Miss Meredith has a right to be represented by counsel,” he said. “You exceed the authority vested in this inquest, Coroner Penfield.”
Penfield frowned, then smiled.
“The inquest stands adjourned until Thursday afternoon,” he announced. Stepping forward, he checked the rush of the newspaper men. “Not now, gentlemen; you cannot interview Miss Meredith,” with a side glance at the tableau near him. “Doctor Curtis will give you the name of her counsel.”
CHAPTER VIII
THE PLEDGE
The violent slam of the front door jarred through the house, then came the sound of rapid footsteps up the staircase and down the hall. Colonel Julian Hull hesitated at his bedroom door, stood in thought for fully three minutes, then continued on his way to a room at the back of the house which he designated as his “den.” His wife looked up at his entrance. Her mild blue eyes widened at his disheveled appearance.
“Why, Julian! Is anything wrong?” she asked.