Coroner Black wheeled on him sharply. “What do you mean by that remark?”
“Nothing, sir.” Murray’s eyes opened in astonishment. “I was only trying to place the last time I’d seen Mr. Brainard here. My master, Mr. Craig Porter, and Dr. Noyes reached home early in October; yes, sir, Mr. Brainard hasn’t been here since then, I’m sure.”
The coroner considered the footman in silence for several seconds.
“When did you last see Dr. Noyes?” he asked finally.
“About midnight, sir. I went up to his room to ask if I could do anything for him. Part of my duties is valeting for Mr. Hugh and Mr. Craig, and the gentlemen staying in the house,” he added, reading the unspoken question on the coroner’s lips.
“How did Dr. Noyes appear?” inquired Black.
“Appear?” Murray reflected for a moment. “I can’t answer that, sir, for I didn’t really see him; the door was opened only a little way, and I just caught a glimpse of him as he stood before his chiffonier stropping his razor.”
The coroner and Dr. McPherson exchanged glances.
“Wasn’t that an unusual hour for such an occupation?” asked the former.
“Quite so, sir; but it was this way, sir”—Murray’s words tumbled over each other in his haste—“the doctor had shaved just before dinner, and I hadn’t had time to put away his things, and last night when I apologized for leaving his chiffonier in such disorder, sir, and offered to come in and straighten up, he told me it was midnight and to go to bed, that he had already cleaned the razor and put the mug away.”