"Why, certainly," exclaimed Winthrop, with well simulated heartiness; "won't you both sit down?" and he dropped into the revolving desk chair. Douglas picked out his old seat in the window and turned his back to the light the better to face Winthrop and Brett, who also sat near the desk. "When will they hold the inquest, Mr. Brett?" questioned Winthrop. "The coroner, Dr. Penfield, told me to-morrow." "Has Hamilton a lawyer to look out for his interests?" "That's not absolutely necessary at the inquest, Mr. Winthrop. At present the negro is simply held on suspicion. If the inquest so decides, he will be charged with the murder and held for the grand jury." Douglas had been busy scanning Winthrop's face intently. He noted the heavy lines in the handsome face, and the unnatural brilliancy of his eyes. It was apparent to both men, by Winthrop's thick speech and unsteady hands, which kept fingering the desk ornaments nervously, that he had been drinking heavily. "Where did you last see Senator Carew?" "In this room yesterday afternoon." "Did you see him alone, or were others present?" "He was alone." "Did he show you a letter which he was then writing?" inquired Douglas at a venture, and was startled at the effect of his question on Winthrop. The latter whitened perceptibly, and pulled his short black mustache to hide his twitching lips. "I know nothing about any letter," he stammered. Brett did not press the point, but asked instead: "Where did you spend last night?" "I dined here with my mother and cousin." "And afterwards?" put in Douglas. "I went to the Alibi Club soon after dinner." "How late did you stay there?" "Most of the night," was the evasive reply. "Please mention the exact hour you left the club," persisted Brett. "I really cannot recollect the exact time; I did not reach this house until after two this morning. We had a pretty gay time at the club, and I was in no condition to remember the hour," and he smiled deprecatingly. Again Brett did not press the question. He turned over the pages of his small memorandum book in which he had been making entries. "Have you any idea where Senator Carew dined and spent the evening?" "No," came the emphatic answer. "He asked me to tell my mother not to expect him at dinner, that was all." "Ah, indeed. Have you any idea when the Senator left the house?" "No, I left him here, and went up to my room, where I stayed until dinner was announced." "Where is your room?" "Third floor, back." "Who has rooms on the next floor?" "Senator Carew's bedroom, bath, and sitting-room are over this part of the house; Miss Cynthia Carew occupies the suite of rooms across the hall from his rooms. My mother and I have the third floor to ourselves." Winthrop plucked nervously at the desk pad. "Talking is dry work; won't you and Mr. Hunter join me, I'll ring for Joshua."