Coroner Penfield adjusted his eyeglasses and scanned the spectators gathered for the Turnbull inquest. The room was crowded with both men and women, the latter predominating, and the coroner decided that, while some had come from a personal interest in the dead man, the majority had been attracted by morbid curiosity. There was a stir among the spectators as an inner door opened and the jury, led by the morgue master filed into the room and took their places. Coroner Penfield rose and addressed the foreman.
“Have you viewed the body?” he inquired.
“Yes, doctor,” and the man sat down.
Coroner Penfield then concisely stated the reason for the inquest and summoned Officer O'Ryan to the witness stand. The policeman stood, cap in hand, while being sworn by the morgue master, and then took his place on the platform in the chair reserved for the witnesses.
His answer to Coroner Penfield's questions relative to his name, residence in Washington, and length of service in the city Police Force were given with brevity and a rich Irish brogue.
“Where were you on Tuesday morning at about five o'clock?” asked Penfield, first consulting some memoranda on his desk.
“On my way home,” explained O'Ryan. “My relief had just come.”
“Does your beat take in the McIntyre residence?”
“It does, sir.”
“Did you observe any one loitering in the vicinity of the residence prior to five o'clock, Tuesday morning?”