But if the Coroner thought much about this bit of evidence he gave no sign of doing so, and the rest of the inquiries he put to Everett were of a stereotyped sort and led nowhere. Then came Billy Dean. That cheerful young man was chipper as always and told all he had to tell in a clear and concise way. “Did you hear any sound in the night as of a passing boat?” Hart asked him. “No,” Dean declared, and his voice was steady and all would have been well but that the silly chap turned brick red from the roots of his hair to the top of his collar. “Then,” said Hart, with a full intention of embarrassing him, “why are you blushing like a turkey cock?” “I’m not!” Dean stormed at him, getting redder yet. “But you barge into me with sudden questions and it knocks me off my base.” Clever! His winning smile and his sudden carrying of the war into the enemy’s quarters succeeded, as I was sure he had hoped, in diverting the jury’s attention from his palpable mendacity. “Then you heard no boat?” Hart went back to his subject. “I heard a motor boat, but that was about twelve o’clock,” Dean said, reminiscently. “I heard none later, for I went to sleep then.” He had himself perfectly in hand, now, and though I confidently believed he had seen Alma Remsen in her canoe, I knew, too, that wild horses couldn’t drag the fact from him. “And you heard no further noises?” “Not till morning, when Everett rapped on my door, and told me to get up.” There seemed to be nothing more to get out of young Dean, and he was dismissed. He had made a good effect on the jury, I could see that. Since they didn’t have my knowledge of the girl in the boat, they were not greatly interested in the vague sounds mentioned by Everett. In fact, I could gather from the whole trend of the inquest that suspicion centred on the inmates of the house. There was little thought given to the outer world. Then Alma Remsen was called. Without asking permission, Mrs. Merivale rose and went with her charge to the witness chair. She took another chair beside Alma, and her big, hard face looked like a tower of strength, should such be needed. “You were not at this house on Wednesday evening or night at any time?” the Coroner said. It was more a statement than a question, and it sounded to me as if Hart wanted to shut up this point once and for all. “No, I was not,” Alma replied, and I hoped nobody except me noticed the quivering of her eyelids. That was the only way she showed any nervousness. Her hands lay quietly in her lap, her lips were not trembling, her eyes were clear and steady in their gaze, but the eyelids fluttered once, twice, as if she was holding herself together by sheer force of will. “Where were you that evening?” “At home, in my own house.” “All the evening?” “Yes.” “Who is your companion?” “Mrs. Merivale. My housekeeper and friend.” “Will she corroborate your presence in your home?” Hart’s voice was most courteous, but it also was decided.