“Are you stark mad? What useful purpose do you propose to serve by going to gaol? Or what good do you suppose you will do her by fumbling with the questions? You will have to speak out sooner or later. Speak out now! Tell the truth! That is the only way in which you can do her a service.”
Jordan struck in; still twirling the scrap of paper into spirals with his fingers:
“Might I ask you, Mr. Coroner, to request your officer to refrain for a moment from carrying out your instructions? Perhaps Mr. Ferguson may be disposed to listen to this gentleman’s wise and friendly counsel. Don’t you think, sir, that you had better?”
I laughed.
“I do. I am prepared to answer any questions which you may put to me.”
“That is more promising. I assure you that I have no desire to do or say anything to hurt your feelings. I believe I know what they are, and I respect them. But I must do my duty and you must do yours; and I do not think that you will hurt any one by doing it.”
“Don’t lecture me, man.”
“Now, tell me; did any one come through your bedroom window after you had retired to rest?”
“No one.”
“That you swear.”