"Well, I should say that you and the Graves Company were pretty well mixed in this matter. You were an officer of the corporation which employed the Graves Company to build a hotel on your plans. Could there be any closer connection than that, do you think?" To this observation Hart made no reply, and finally the member of the jury who had interposed before put another question to the witness:-- "You have told us that the Glenmore was not properly built, was not what it pretended to be, a fire-proof building, and generally violated the ordinance for that class of building. Do you consider yourself in any way responsible for those violations?" "Yes," the architect replied slowly, "I suppose so. At least I knew all about it!" "You considered it a dangerous building?" "I can't say that I did. I should consider it so now. I didn't think much about it then." The witness's admission came with evident effort; the juryman continued insinuatingly:-- "Mr. Hart, I believe that you were present at the fire?" "Yes." "Did you then believe that if the hotel had been built according to these plans"--he pointed to the roll of blue prints on the table--"the large loss of life would not have occurred?" "I felt so,--yes, I believe so now!" "May I ask one more question? Was it for your interest to make these changes? Did you make any money out of the job beyond your customary commission?" It was a question that the witness might properly refuse to answer as having no direct bearing on the object of the inquest. But the architect was weary of quibbles,--indeed, eager to make his testimony as thorough as might be, and to have it over. "Not directly, but I was an officer of the company, and beside--" "Indirectly, then, you benefited?" "Yes, indirectly." "That is all, Mr. Hart." A few more questions were asked by the coroner about the inspection of the building by Murphy and Lagrange, and also in regard to the architect's previous relations with the Graves Company. Then the witness was excused. When the architect stepped back into the room, he saw Wheeler sitting beside Helen in the rear. They waited for him at the door, and together the three went out to the street. The lawyer, who had reached the hearing in time for most of the testimony, smiled rather grimly as he remarked to his cousin:-- "Well, Jack, you gave them about everything they were after! You needn't have turned yourself quite inside out." "It was perfect!" Helen exclaimed, taking her husband's arm. "Everything you said was right. I wouldn't have had you change a word." Wheeler buttoned his coat against the east wind and smiled tolerantly at the woman's fervor. "Will that be all, Everett?" she asked a little defiantly. "For the present," he replied after a pause, and then he nodded good-by. "What did he mean?" she asked her husband, as they threaded the crowded street leading to the North Side bridge. "That they will hold me to the Grand Jury, I suppose."