“How do you know that Dr. Noyes was not in his room?” demanded Coroner Black.
Vera looked at him in surprise. “When I received no response to my repeated raps, I turned the handle of the door and entered his bedroom—it was empty.”
“Did you meet anyone in the hall on your way to summon Dr. Noyes and Mr. Wyndham?”
“No, sir, no one.”
Coroner Black rose. “I think that is all, Miss Deane; no, stay, there is one other point—were you sent for when Mr. Brainard was taken ill at the dinner table?”
“No. I was not aware of his illness until Dr. Noyes informed me that he and Mr. Wyndham had assisted a guest, who was suffering from vertigo, into the spare bedroom, and directed me to administer a dose of aromatic spirits of ammonia, and to make him comfortable for the night, and then to return to Mr. Porter.”
Coroner Black referred to his notes before again addressing her.
“Did you observe where Mr. Brainard’s clothes had been placed?” he asked.
Vera wrinkled her pretty forehead in thought. “I believe they were lying on the sofa, but I cannot swear to it,” she replied.
“Do you recall seeing the clothes this morning?”