e last night and saw your father, so unexpectedly."

"I was angry," said the young artist "I asked him what he was doing
here."

"And then what?"

"He merely jeered at me. I looked at my sister; she seemed very ill, and
I understood the cause of it at once, and tried to cross toward her."

"You _tried_ to cross the room," said Osborne. "What was to prevent
you?"

"My father tried to!" said the young man. "It was a way he had--I
remember it from a boy--a love of threatening people--a desire to mock,
a kind of joy in persecution. But he had forgotten that I had grown into
a man, and I threw him out of my way as soon as he stepped into it."

"Well?" asked the questioner, after a pause.

"I saw that my sister had undergone a severe strain; she has been in bad
health for some years. So I took her at once to her room."

"Your father remained in the sitting-room?"

"Yes. At least I suppose so. For when I returned, perhaps a quarter of
an hour later, I found him lying upon the floor, just as he is now; the
blood from a wound in his head was soaking into a rug and he was quite
dead."

"A quarter of an hour elapsed between your leaving the room and your
return?"

"Yes."

"During that time you heard no unusual sounds?"

"No."

"What other occupants are there here, beside you two?"

"A maid, who also does the cooking. And there is a nurse who has been
attending my sister for some time past."

"Bring them here," said Dr. Shower to the policeman who had been
standing at the room door during the greater part of this examination.
As the man departed the assistant coroner turned his glance toward the
sick girl.

"How long was your father here before your brother arrived?"

"I am not sure," she replied in her low voice. "It may have been an
hour--perhaps it was more."

The nurse and the maid had evidently not been far away, for the
policeman now led them into the room. The maid was an exceedingly black
negro girl, and obviously frightened; the nurse wore her trim uniform
well; her face was calm and her eyes were level and serene; apparently
long training in the hospitals had not been wasted in her case.

"What's your name?" inquired Dr. Shower, of the maid.

"Rosamond Wyat, suh," replied the girl. And, then, eagerly: "But, deedy,
boss, I don't know nothing about this killing! I was back in that yeah
kitchen, and----"

"Answer my questions, please," said the assistant coroner, severely.
"You were present in t