"Then you're perfectly right not to answer it," said the coroner. "Don't ask him that any more. Ask something else."
"Then did you," questioned the attorney, turning to Throgton again, "play a game of billiards with the deceased?"
"Stop, stop," said the coroner, "that question I can't allow. It's too direct, too brutal; there's something about that question, something mean, dirty. Ask another."
"Very good," said the attorney. "Then tell me, Mr. Throgton, if you ever saw this blue envelope before?" He held up in his hand a long blue envelope.
"Never in my life," said Throgton.
"Of course he didn't," said the coroner. "Let's have a look at it. What is it?"
"This envelope, your Honour, was found sticking out of the waistcoat pocket of the deceased."
"You don't say," said the coroner. "And what's in it?"
Amid breathless silence, the attorney drew forth a sheet of blue paper, bearing a stamp, and read:
"This is the last will and testament of me, Kivas Kelly of New York. I leave everything of which I die possessed to my nephew, Peter Kelly."