“You noticed no sign of a struggle?” inquired the coroner, looking sharply up at the witness.
“None, sir. My master was lying on his side, and except for the stain of blood which attracted my attention it looked as though he had died in his sleep.”
“I raised the alarm,” answered Short; and then he went on to describe how he switched on the electric light, rushed downstairs, seized the knife hanging in the hall, opened one of the back doors and rushed outside.
“And why did you do that, pray?” asked the coroner, looking at him fixedly.
“I thought that someone might be lurking in the garden,” the man responded, a trifle lamely.
The solicitor of Mrs. Courtenay’s family, to whom she had sent asking him to be present on her behalf, rose at this juncture and addressing the coroner, said:
“I should like to put a question to the witness, sir. I represent the deceased’s family.”
“As you wish,” replied the coroner. “But do you consider such a course wise at this stage of the inquiry? There must be an adjournment.”
He understood the coroner’s objection and, acquiescing, sat down.