“When did you last see Mr. Turnbull at the house?”
“Sunday afternoon.” Grimes' reply was spoken with more than his accustomed quickness of speech. “Mr. Turnbull called twice, after a long time in the drawing room, he went away taking the police dogs with him, and later called to bring them back.”
“Where were these dogs on Monday night?”
“I last saw them in the library,” replied Grimes shortly.
“And where did you find them the next morning?” prompted the coroner.
“In the cellar,” laconically.
“And what were they doing in the cellar?”
“Hunting rats.”
“And how did the dogs get in the cellar?” inquired the coroner patiently. Grimes was not volunteering information, even if he could not be accused of holding it back.
“Some one must have let them down the back stairs,” the butler admitted. “I don't know who it was.”