"Did she state what was the matter?"

"Yes, sir. She said that she had locked a burglar in a closet, and
to come and get him, and I did so," and O'Ryan expanded his chest
with an air of satisfaction as be glanced about the morgue.

"Did the burglar resist arrest?"

"No, sir; he came very peaceably and not a word out of him."

"Had you any idea that the burglar was not what he seemed?"

"Devil an idea, begging your pardon - O'Ryan remembered hastily
where he was. "The burglar looked the part he was masquerading,
and his make-up was perfect," ended O'Ryan with relish. "Never
gave me a hint he was a gentleman and a bank cashier in disguise."

Kent, who had arrived at the morgue a few minutes before the
policeman commenced his testimony, smiled in spite of himself. He
was feeling exceedingly low spirited, and had come to the inquest
with inward foreboding as to its result. On what developed there,
he Was convinced, hung Jimmie Turnbull's good name. After his
interview with Detective Ferguson that morning, he had wired Philip
Rochester to return to Washington at once. He had requested an
immediate reply, and had fully expected to find a telegram at his
office when he stopped there on his way to the morgue, but none had
come.

"Whom did you see in the McIntyre house?" the coroner asked O'Ryan.