ing so.

Near these two sat a young man who, I was told, was Gregory Hall, the
secretary. He had been reached by telephone, and had come out from New
York, arriving shortly after I had left the Crawford house.

Mr. Hall was what may be termed the average type of young American
citizens. He was fairly good-looking, fairly well-groomed, and so far
as I could judge from his demeanor, fairly well-bred. His dark hair was
commonplace, and parted on the side, while his small, carefully arranged
mustache was commonplace also. He looked exactly what he was, the
trusted secretary of a financial magnate, and he seemed to me a man
whose dress, manner, and speech would always be made appropriate to the
occasion or situation. In fact, so thoroughly did he exhibit just such
a demeanor as suited a confidential secretary at the inquest of his
murdered employer, that I involuntarily thought what a fine undertaker
he would have made. For, in my experience, no class of men so perfectly
adapt themselves to varying atmospheres as undertakers.

Philip Crawford and his son, an athletic looking young chap, were also
in this group. Young Crawford inherited to a degree the fine appearance
of his father and uncle, and bade fair to become the same kind of a
first-class American citizen as they.

Behind these people, the ones most nearly interested in the procedure,
were gathered the several servants of the house.

Lambert, the butler, was first interviewed.

The man was a somewhat pompous, middle-aged Englishman, and though of
stolid appearance, his face showed what might perhaps be described as an
intelligent stupidity.

After a few formal questions as to his position in the household, the
coroner asked him to tell his own story of the early morning.

In a more clear and concise way than I should have thought the man
capable of, he detailed his discovery of his master's body.

"I came down-stairs at seven this morning," he said, "as I always do. I
opened the house, I saw the cook a few moments about matters pertaining
to breakfast, and I attended to my usual duties. At about half-past
seven I went to Mr. Crawford's office, to set it in order for the day,
and as I opened the door I saw him sitting in his chair. At first I
thought he'd dropped asleep there, and been there all night, then in a
moment I saw what had happened."

"Well, what did you do next?" asked the coroner, as the man paused.

"I went in search of Louis, Mr. Crawford's v