"Call Miss Helen McIntyre," Penfield said to the morgue master, and
the latter crossed to the door leading to the room where sat the
witnesses. There was instant craning of necks to catch a glimpse
of the society girl about whom, with her twin sister, so much
interest centered.

Helen was extremely pale as she advanced up the room, but Kent,
watching her closely, was relieved to see none of the nervousness
which had been so marked at their interview that morning. She was
dressed with fastidious taste, and as she mounted the platform after
the morgue master had administered the oath, Coroner Penfield rose
and, with a polite gesture, indicated the chair she was to occupy.

"I am Helen McIntyre," she announced c1ear1y. "Daughter of Colonel
Charles McIntyre."

"Tell us the circumstances attending the arrest of James Turnbull,
alias John Smith, in your house on Tuesday morning, Miss McIntyre,"
directed the coroner, seating himself at his table, on which were
writing materials.

"I was sitting up to let in my sister, who had gone to a dance,"
she began, "and fearing I would fall asleep I went down into the
library, intending to sit in one of the window recesses and watch
for her arrival. As I entered the library I saw a figure steal
across the room and disappear inside a closet. I was very
frightened, but had sense enough left to cross softly to the
closet and lock the door." She paused in her rapid recital and
drew a long breath, then continued more slowly: