icals."

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."

"Miss McIntyre," Penfield rose, "I have only a few more questions to put
to you. Why did Mr. Turnbull come to your house--a house where he was a
welcome visitor--in the middle of the night disguised as a burglar?"

The reporters as well as the spectators bent forward to catch her reply.

"Mr. Turnbull had a wager with my sister, Barbara," she explained.
"She bet him that he could not break into the house without being
discovered."

Penfield considered her answer before addressing her again.

"Why didn't Mr. Turnbull tell you who he was when you had him arrested?"
he asked.

Helen shrugged her shoulders. "I cannot answer that question, for I do
not know his reason. If he had only confided in me"--her voice
shook--"he might have been alive to-day."

"How so?" Penfield shot the question at her.

"Because then he would have been spared the additional excitement of his
trip to the police station and the scene in court, which brought on his
attack of angina pectoris."

Penfield regarded her for a moment in silence.

"I have no further questions, Miss McIntyre," he said, and turned to
the morgue master. "Ask Miss Barbara McIntyre to come to the platform."
Turning back to his table and the papers thereon he failed to see the
twins pass each other in the aisle. They were identically attired and
when Coroner Penfield looked again at the witness chair, he stared in
surprise at its occupant.

"I beg pardon, Miss McIntyre, I desire your sister to testify," he
remarked.

"I am Barbara McIntyre." A haunting quality in her voice caught Kent's
attention, and he leaned eagerly forward, his eyes following each
movement of her nervous fingers, busily twisting her gloves inside and
out.

"I beg your pardon," exclaimed the coroner, recovering from his
surprise. He had seen the twins at the police court on Tuesday morning
for a second only, and then his attention ha