“I looked at his hand again and noticed that there was blood upon the handkerchief, and I said: ‘It’s bleeding.’ The young fellow looked dreadfully scared, and I thought he was going to drop, but he said something I couldn’t hear, and as soon as the car stopped he walked away quickly.”
This testimony produced a profound sensation, and every eye was turned upon Wright.
“Why did you not mention this circumstance to the police last night?” asked the coroner.
Wright shifted about uneasily and said: “When I heard the screams upstairs and was told that Mr. Marchburn had been murdered I was scared half out of my life and clean forgot all about it until I got home. It was then too late to tell any one, and I thought I would wait until I came here.”
“Can you describe this man?” asked a juror.
“He was a young fellow; I should think about twenty-four. I didn’t notice his face particularly, except when I told him his hand was bloody, and then I saw how white he looked. I never should have thought much of it if it hadn’t been for the murder.”
“How was he dressed?”
“He had on a brown overcoat; but I don’t remember anything else.”
That was all the light Wright could throw upon the affair. Coroner and jurymen plied him with questions; but he could tell them nothing. He did not know the color of the man’s eyes, whether he wore a beard, what kind of hat he wore; in fact, he could furnish nothing which would serve as an identification. He thought he might know the man if he were to see him again; but he was not absolutely sure as to that. There was no reason to think that Wright was not telling the truth, and it was almost impossible that he could have committed the murder, but the jury, in rendering their verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown, censured Wright for having remained silent for more than twelve hours, and the coroner privately suggested to the police that they keep an eye upon Wright.