“Yes, sir; and I never saw anybody so worked up an’ nervous-like.”
“Do you remember what outer garment he wore?”
“He wore his raincoat, sir; I helped him on an’ off with it.”
“Where are t’e raincoats kept?”
“They usually hang on the rack in th’ vestibule, sir. That’s Mr. Drysdale’s coat that Mr. Delroy has on now.”
“Yes,” said Delroy, looking down at it; “I didn’t notice; I snatched it down in such a hurry”
He stopped, staring down at the coat, his face suddenly livid.
The others followed his glance.
The top button of the coat was missing. It had evidently been wrenched away with violence, for the cloth was badly torn.
Amid a silence strained, absolute, the coroner took from his pocket-book the button he had found in Graham’s hand.
“I believe Mr. Drysdale will find it difficult to explain t’is, gentlemen,” he said, his face glowing more and more, and he held against the place the button he had found.
It fitted it exactly; the button matched the others on the coat; the shred of cloth was of the same colour and material as the remainder of the garment. It was a proof there could be no disputing.
Heffelbower slowly replaced the button in his pocket-book.
“May I trouble you to take off t’e coat, Mr. Delroy?” he said; and when Delroy complied, he threw
