“Are you a native of Washington City, Miss Deane?” he asked, first giving Deputy Coroner McPherson time to resume his seat and prepare to take notes. “I was born in Washington twenty-six years ago,” was the quiet reply. “Have you resided continuously in Washington?” “No, sir, not after the death of my parents,” replied Vera. “I went West, then later studied to be a trained nurse at the University of Pennsylvania, graduating from there four years ago.” “How long have you been attending Mr. Craig Porter?” “A little over three months.” “And what do your duties comprise?” “I am night nurse.” Her concise reply won an approving nod from one of the jurors. “Were you summoned to nurse Mr. Bruce Brainard when he became ill last night?” “I was, sir.” “Then did you spend the night by his bedside?” “No, sir.” “Why not?” The question shot from the coroner, and Vera’s fingers tightened their grip on the arm of her chair, but her voice was not raised or ruffled as she answered slowly: “Mr. Brainard’s condition was so improved after taking the medicine prescribed by Dr. Noyes that he did not require my attendance, and I therefore returned to my customary duties in Mr. Porter’s bedroom.” “Do the bedrooms occupied by Mr. Porter and Mr. Brainard adjoin each other?” inquired Coroner Black. “They do, sir, but there is no communicating door between them.” “Ah! Then to enter Mr. Brainard’s bedroom from Mr. Porter’s you had to go into the main hall and from there into Mr. Brainard’s bedroom?” “Yes, sir.” “Then while with Mr. Porter you were cut off by a solid wall from all communication with your other patient?” questioned the coroner, intently studying a rough sketch of the interior of the house which he held in his hand. “Not entirely,” explained Vera quickly. “There is a transom between the two rooms which remains open, and I would have heard instantly if Mr. Brainard had called me.” “Did he call you?” asked the coroner eagerly, and his face fell at her monosyllabic “No.” “Did you hear any noise in Mr. Brainard’s bedroom during the night?” he began, after a pause. “Not a sound, sir.” “Did you go in to see how he was during the night?” “Yes, once, about half past one. Judging from his regular breathing that Mr. Brainard was sleeping I tiptoed out of the room without approaching his bed, and resumed my watch in the next room.” “Was there any light in Mr. Brainard’s room?” “Yes, I placed a night light on the bed-stand.” “Did the candle give sufficient light for you to see Mr. Brainard’s position in bed?” questioned Coroner Black. “Yes, sir; he lay on his left side with his face turned toward the door,” answered Vera. “His face was somewhat in shadow as his back was turned to the bed-table on which the night light stood, but I could see that his eyes were closed.” “Was he lying in the same position when you found him dead the next morning?”