“I am,” affirmed Kent, as Mrs. Sylvester paused.
“I am too, sir,” she confided to him. “Cause you see I was in the court room when Mr. Turnbull died and I'm naturally interested.”
“Naturally,” agreed Kent with a commiserating glance at his clerk; the latter's wife threatened to be loquacious, and he judged from her looks that it was a habit which had grown with the years. As a general rule he abhorred talkative women, but—“And what took you to the police court on Tuesday morning?”
“Why, me and Mr. Sylvester have our little differences like other married couples,” she explained. “And sometimes we ask the Court to settle them.” She caught Kent's look of impatience and hurried her speech. “The burglar case came on just after ours was remanded, and seeing the McIntyre twins, whom I've often read about, I just thought I'd stay. Let me have that paper a minute.”
“Certainly,” Kent gave her the newspaper and she ran her finger down the columns devoted to the Turnbull case with a slowness that set his already excited nerves on edge.
“Here's what I'm looking for,” she exclaimed triumphantly, a minute later, and pointed to the paragraph:
“Mrs. Margaret Perry Brewster, the fascinating widow, added
nothing material to the case in her testimony, and she was
quickly excused, after stating that she was told about the
tragedy by the McIntyre twins upon their return from the
Police Court.”
“Well what of it?” asked Kent.
“Only this, Mr. Kent;” Mrs. Sylvester enjoyed nothing so much as talking to a good looking man, especially in the presence of her husband, and she could not refrain from a triumphant look at him as she went on with her remarks. “There was a female sitting on the bench next to me in Court; in fact, she and I were the only women on that side, and I kinder noticed her on that account, and then I saw she was all done up in veils—I couldn't see her face.
“I caught her peering this way and that during the burglar's hearing; I don't reckon she could see well through all the veils. Now, don't get impatient, Mr. Kent; I'm getting to my point—that woman sitting next to me in the police court was the widow Brewster.”