one else—I’m sure none of these could have committed it.”
“Ah,” said the coroner blandly, “t’en t’ey were all in t’e house, I suppose?”
“I can answer positively that my wife, Miss Croydon, and Mr. Tremaine were in the house the entire evening.”
“And Mr. Drysdale?”
“Drysdale went out for a walk.”
“A long one?”
“He was gone two or three hours.”
“Iss he in t’e habit of walking after night?”
“No,” answered Delroy slowly, “I can’t say that he is.”
“Did you see him when he came in?”
“Yes—I was looking out the window at the storm.”
“Did he appear as usual?” Again Delroy hesitated.
“I see, of course,” he said, at last, “what you’re aiming at; but I’m sure that Drysdale can explain his absence, as well as everything that happened during it. I therefore answer candidly that he did not appear as usual; he seemed excited and depressed. He left me in a fit of anger and went to his room.”
“Wit’out explaining his action?”
“Yes—he made no effort to explain it.”
“Did any explanation occur to you?”
“I thought perhaps he was worrying over losses incurred in speculation.”
“Ah!—he has incurred such losses, t’en?”
