“I did not,” came the instant and emphatic denial.
“Then, if you did not give him the razor, how did Mr. Brainard secure possession of the razor which you saw on his bed?” asked Black. “You, and other witnesses, have testified that Mr. Brainard brought no luggage with him and did not come prepared to spend the night.”
“I have puzzled over his possessing a razor,” agreed Wyndham. “Then it occurred to me that perhaps he brought it with him from town intending to commit suicide on the way home.”
“An ingenious theory,” acknowledged Black. “But why should Mr. Brainard plan to commit suicide when his engagement to a beautiful and wealthy girl was about to be announced?”
“Mr. Brainard’s ill health may have unbalanced his mind.”
“Did Mr. Brainard show symptoms of insanity last night?” asked Black quietly.
“N-no.” Wyndham thought a minute, then glanced at the coroner. “The attack of vertigo”—he began and stopped as Coroner Black smiled and shook his head.
“Mr. Wyndham”—Black turned abruptly and produced the razor—“have you seen this before?”
Wyndham took it from him gingerly. “It resembles the one I saw lying on the bed close by Brainard’s left hand,” he said at last.
“It is the same one,” announced Black shortly. “Had you ever seen this razor before finding it on Brainard’s bed this morning?”