Penfield raised his eyebrows and shot a look at the deputy coroner
before going on with his examination.

"You knew Mr. Turnbull intimately, and yet you did not recognize
him?" he asked.

"He wore an admirable disguise." Helen touched her lips with the
tip of her tongue; inwardly she longed for the glass of ice water
which she saw standing on the reporters' table. "Mr. Turnbull's
associates will tell you that he excelled in amateur theatricals."

Penfield looked at her critically for a moment before continuing
his questions. She bore his scrutiny with composure.

"Officer O'Ryan has testified that you informed him you examined
the windows of your house," he said, after a brief wait. "Did you
find any unlocked?"

"Yes; one was open in the little reception room off the front door."

"What floor is the room on?"

"The ground floor."

"Would it have been easy for any one to gain admittance through the
window without attracting attention in the street?" was Penfield's
next question.

"Yes."