“Go on.  What did you find?”

“Mars Alfred, sir, it’s very harryfyin to my feelins.”

“Go on.  You are required to state all you saw, all you know.”

Bedney drew back his right foot, advanced his left.  Took out his handkerchief, wiped his face and refolded his arms.

“My Marster was layin’ on the rug before the fireplace, and his knees was all drawed up.  His right arm, was stretched out, so—­and his left hand was all doubled up.  I know’d he was dead, before I tetched him, for his face was set; and pinched and blue.  I reckon I hollered, but I can’t say, for the next thing I knowed, the horsler and the cook, and Miss Angerline, and Dyce, my ole ’oman, and Gord knows who all, was streamin’ in and out and screamin’.”

“What was the condition of the room?”

“The front window was up, and the blinds was flung wide open, and a cheer was upside clown close to it.  The red vases what stood on the fire-place mantle was smashed on the carpet, and the handi’on was close to Marster’s right hand.  The vault was open, and papers was strowed plentiful round on the floor under it.  Then the neighburs and the Doctor, and the Crowner come runnin’ in, and I sot down by the bed and cried like a chile.  Pretty soon they turned us all out and hilt the inquess.”

“You do not recollect any other circumstance?”

“The lamp on the table was burnin’—­and ther’ wan’t much oil left in it.  I seen Miss Angerline blow it out, after the Doctor come.”

“Who found the chloroform vial?”

“Don’t know.”

“Did you hear any name mentioned as that of the murderer?”

“Miss Angerline tole the Crowner, that ef the will was missin’, Gen’l Darrington’s granddaughter had stole it.  They two, with some other gentleman, sarched the vault, and Miss Angerline said everything was higgledy piggledy and no will there.”

“You testified before the Coroner?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why did you not give him the handkerchief you found?”

“I didn’t have it then.”

“When and where did you get it?  Be very careful now.”

For the first time Bedney raised his eyes toward the place where Dyce sat near the prisoner, and he hesitated.  He took some tobacco from his vest pocket, stowed it away in the hollow of his cheek, and re-crossed his arms.

“When Marster was dressed, and they carried him out to the drawing-room, Dyce was standin’ cryin’ by the fireplace, and I went to the bed, and put my hand under the bolster, where Marster always kep’ his watch and his pistol.  The watch was ther’ but no pistol; and just sorter stuffed under the pillow case—­was, a hank’cher.  I tuk the watch straight to the gentlemen in the drawin’-room, and they come back and sarched for the pistol, and we foun’ it layin’ in its case in the table draw’.  Of all the nights in his life, ole Marster had forgot to lay his pistol handy.”