I believe not," the butler looked dubious. "I recall that
Colonel McIntyre gave Miss Helen her key at the luncheon table, and he
said, then, to Miss Barbara that he couldn't trust her with one because
she would be sure to lose it, she is that careless."

The coroner asked the next question with such abruptness that the butler
started.

"When did you last see Mr. Turnbull at the house?"

"Sunday afternoon." Grimes' reply was spoken with more than his
accustomed quickness of speech. "Mr. Turnbull called twice, after a long
time in the drawing room, he went away taking the police dogs with him,
and later called to bring them back."

"Where were these dogs on Monday night?"

"I last saw them in the library," replied Grimes shortly.

"And where did you find them the next morning?" prompted the coroner.

"In the cellar," laconically.

"And what were they doing in the cellar?"

"Hunting rats."

"And how did the dogs get in the cellar?" inquired the coroner
patiently. Grimes was not volunteering information, even if he could not
be accused of holding it back.

"Some one must have let them down the back stairs," the butler admitted.
"I don't know who it was."

"Which servant got downstairs ahead of you on Tuesday morning?"

"No one, sir; the cook over-slept, and she and the maids came down in a
bunch ten minutes later."

"And who told you of the attempted burglary and the burglar's arrest?"
asked Penfield.

"Miss Barbara. She asked us to hurry breakfast for her and Miss Helen
'cause they had to go at once to the police court; she didn't give any
particulars, or nothing," added Grimes in an injured tone. "'Twarn't
'til Thomas and I saw the afternoon papers that we knew what had been
going on in our own house."

"That is all, Grimes," announced Penfield, and the butler left the
platform with the same stolid air he wore when he arrived. He was
followed in the witness chair by the other McIntyre servants in
succession. Their testimony added nothing to what he had said but simply
confirmed his statements.

Kent, who had grown restless during the servants' monotonous testimony,
forgot the oppressive atmosphere of the room on seeing Mrs. Brewster
enter under the escort of the morgue master. Spying a vacant seat
several rows ahead of where he was sitting, Kent, with a muttered
apology to the people over whom he crawled in his efforts to get out,
hurried into it just as the vivacious widow had finished taking the o