"Colonel McIntyre is here now," he told the coroner.

"Ah, then bring him in," and Penfield, while awaiting the arrival of the
new witness, straightened the papers on his desk.

McIntyre looked straight ahead of him as he walked down the room and
stood frowning heavily while the oath was being administered, but his
manner, when the coroner addressed him, had regained all the suavity and
polish which had first captivated Washington society.

"I have been a resident of Washington for about five years," he said
in answer to the coroner's question. "My daughters attended school here
after their return from Paris, where they were in a convent for four
years. They made their debut last November at our home in this city."

"Were you aware of the wager between your daughter Barbara and James
Turnbull?" asked Penfield.

"I heard of it Sunday afternoon but paid little attention," admitted
McIntyre. "My daughter Barbara's vagaries I seldom take seriously."

"Was Mr. Turnbull a frequent visitor at your house?"

"Oh, yes."

"Was he engaged to your daughter Helen?"

"No." McIntyre's denial was prompt and firmly spoken. Penfield and Kent,
from his new seat nearer the platform, watched the colonel narrowly, but
learned nothing from his expression.

"I have heard otherwise," observed the coroner dryly.

"You have been misinformed," McIntyre's manner was short. "I would
suggest, Mr. Coroner, that you confine your questions and conjectures to
matters pertinent to this inquiry."

Penfield flushed as one of the jurors snickered, but he did not repeat
his previous question, asking instead, "Was there good feeling between
you and Mr. Turnbull?"

"I never quarreled with him," replied McIntyre. "I really saw little of
him as, whenever he called at the house, he came to see one or the other
of my daughters, or both."

"When did you last see Mr. Turnbull?" inquired Penfield.

"He was at the house on Sunday and I had quite a talk with him,"
McIntyre leaned back in his chair and regarded the neat crease in his
trousers with critical eyes. "I last saw Turnbull going out of the
street door."

"Were you disturbed by the burglar's entrance on Monday night?"

McIntyre shook his head. "I am a heavy sleeper," he said. "I regret very
much that my daughter Helen did not at once awaken me on finding the
burglar, as she supposed, hiding in the closet. I knew nothing of the
affair until Grimes informed me of it, and only reached the police