what purpose did you go out last night, and where did you go?”
Drysdale sprang to his feet, his face red with anger.
“Why, you infernal busy-body!” he cried. “It’s none of your business.”
“T’en you refuse to answer?”
“I most certainly do, and I think you’d better go back to Babylon.”
“I shall go back in due time, Mr. Drysdale,” retorted the coroner in a cool voice, holding up his hand. “Perhaps you have, as yet, not heard of t’e murder committed here last night and of t’e robbery which accompanied it?”
Drysdale paled suddenly, his hands were trembling…
“Murder!” he repeated blankly. “Robbery!”
“Precisely. Graham t’e gardener was murdered last night and Mrs. Delroy’s pearl necklace stolen. You were t’e only person who left t’e house. Your revolver was found beside him. T’is button, torn from your coat, was found in his hand. I hope you will now perceive t’e wisdom of giving us a tetailed account of your movements while you were away from t’e house.”
Drysdale had listened with a growing pallor. When the coroner finished, he was fairly livid, and he passed his hand helplessly before his eyes. But he did not speak.
“Well?” asked Heffelbower impatiently, after a moment.
Drysdale took down his hand and steadied himself against the back of his chair.
“I have nothing to say,” he murmured hoarsely.
