"Well, Sire was there."
"A dog, I presume, from your last response. Continue from the point when the cage was brought in."
"I went upstairs, as I told you before, when I had finished my dusting. Then I sat down in Mr. Robert's room."
"Was that all you did?—to sit down?"
"Yes."
Bertha's replies had gradually come down to monosyllabic length and it looked as if the next step might be silence. But the district attorney interposed with a nod and a smile, which worked like magic in loosening her tongue.
"Well," she continued, "I was sitting at Mr. Robert's window when I noticed Sire's barking. I thought it was odd if he was playing with Mr. Robert, they both took on so at the professor's death. But it kept up and kept up, so I slipped down to see and the first thing I smelled was smoke. It was leaking out through the study keyhole and I could hear Sire barking and pawing at the knob inside. Of course I opened the door and rushed in to save the canary, but the fire stung me so I thought I was suffocated. Sire began running around and I called for Mr. Robert, thinking he was in the room, for the smoke was hiding everything. Oh, I tell you my heart stopped when my voice came back to me all hollow in that empty house. It was then I ran down to the street."
"One moment, Miss Lund. Did you or did you not observe anything new or unusual in the room when you were engaged in dusting the chairs?"
"No, sir; I don't remember anything unusual."
"How long were you upstairs?"