"At once, sir," answered Mitchell promptly. "At the back of the elevator near the body I found this"--holding up a short bone-handled knife which he took from his coat pocket. "The blade was covered with blood." Coroner Penfield took the knife and after examining it, handed it to the foreman of the jury who, upon scanning it closely, passed it on to his companions. "Have you ever seen such a knife before?" questioned the coroner. "The blade is a peculiar shape." "Yes, sir; that shape of knife is sometimes used in modeling clay and by glaziers when handling putty." Penfield and the deputy coroner exchanged glances, then the coroner resumed his questions. "Did you examine the bedroom Mr. Spencer occupied Tuesday night, Mitchell?" "I did, sir." "Had the bed been slept in?" "Apparently it had, sir. The pillows and covering had been tossed about." "Did you find anything in the room belonging to the deceased?" "Yes, the coat and waistcoat of his suit, his collar and shoes." "Was there any indication, besides the tossing of the bedclothes, that the deceased had made preparations to sleep there?" "Yes; I found a pair of pajamas lying on the floor near the bed, apparently hastily discarded, as they were turned wrong side out." "Did you examine the deceased's clothes?" "Yes, sir. They were what any gentleman would wear in the evening. In his pockets I found a wallet containing twenty dollars in bills, three dollars in loose change, and his keys. Here they are, sir," and Mitchell, as he mentioned each ticketed article, laid them on the table before the coroner, who examined them carefully. "Was there anything about the room which especially claimed your attention?" Mitchell paused and glanced thoughtfully at his polished shoes. "Let me alter that question," said the coroner hastily. "Did you find any indication in the room that Mr. Spencer expected to return to it?" "His clothes were there, and the electric light by the bureau was burning, notwithstanding the fact that it was nearly nine o'clock in the morning." The coroner consulted his papers, "That is all just now," and Mitchell departed. "Ask Mr. Whitney to step here," directed Penfield, a second afterward. "Beg pardon, sir," and the morgue master stepped before the platform. "Mr. Whitney went back to his residence to escort his daughter here. Mrs. Whitney, however, is waiting in the next room." "Very well, bring Mrs. Whitney here," and the coroner left his seat to assist her to the platform. Mrs. Whitney's customary self-control and air of good breeding had not deserted her, and whatever her inward tribulation at appearing before a coroner's jury, it was successfully concealed as she repeated the oath after the morgue master. "Your full name?" questioned Coroner Penfield. "Minna Caswell Whitney, daughter of the late Judge William Caswell, of New York." "You were married to Winslow Whitney in--" "1896." "And you have resided in Washington since then?"