“Was he away much, evenings?” “Only when he was at court in Augusta or Portland. When he had cases at Norridgewock he always drove home at night.” “At what time did you have supper?” “At six.” “On the night of the murder?” The witness nodded, too much affected to speak her answer. “Who was present at supper?” “Theodore and myself.” “Mary Mullin and Oldbeg did not eat with you?” This was a sore spot in Millbank’s estimate of the widow Parlin. The town still held it a Christian duty for “help” to eat at the same table with their employers. Every departure from this primitive rule was occasion for heart-burnings and recriminations. “They ate by themselves in the kitchen.” There was a slight raising of the head, a shadow, as it were, of the old self-assertive pride, which in other days would have made itself manifest in answering this question. So deep was Millbank in the tragedy that the audience almost lost the weight of the heinous fact confessed in this answer. “Did you go directly to your sitting room after supper?” “No, we went out into the front yard, to look at the flower-beds, and then crossed the road to the orchard and walked through that to the river-bank.” “From there you returned to the house?” “Yes.” “Where did you go on your return?” “To my sitting room. He lighted my lamp and then excused himself, because of some work he had to do.” “When did you see him again?” “At half-past nine, when I went to bid him good-night.” “Are you certain of the time?” “Yes; for I stopped to wind the clock as I went through the hall, and noticed that it was exactly half-past nine.” “There are two doors to the library, are there not--one from the main hall and one from the side?” “Yes.” “By which one did you enter the library?” “By the one from the side hall.” “Which is near the side door of the house?” Again she had to nod assent. This was the door through which Wing had passed to his death. “Did you knock at the door before entering?” “Always.” Again that slight suggestive raising of the head. “Did he open the door for you?” “Yes. He knew my knock, and always came to open the door.” “Did you notice anything peculiar about him or the room?” “I did not.” “Was there anything to indicate whether he was writing or reading when you knocked?” “He had a book in his left hand and the light was on a small table by his reading chair.” “This reading chair and table, where were they in the room?” “Before the fireplace, about the centre of the north side.” “Was there a fire in the fireplace?” “Yes; there were a few wood coals.” “Was it a cold night?” “No; but he was very fond of a wood fire and when the evening was not too warm had one, even if he had to have a window open.” “Was the window open that night?” “Yes; the one nearest the River Road, overlooking the driveway.” “That was the nearest window to the desk?” “The nearest of the south windows. The desk stood between the two west windows.”