Yes, he had lived with the McIntyre during
their residence in Washington, something like five years, he couldn't
quite remember the exact dates. No, there was never any quarreling,
upstairs or down; it was a well-ordered household until this.
"Exactly," remarked the coroner dryly. "What about Monday night?
Tell us, Grimes, what occurred in that house between midnight
Monday and five o'clock Tuesday morning."
"Haven't much to tell," was the grumpy response. "I went upstairs
about half-past eleven and got down the next morning at the usual
hour, seven o'clock."
"And you heard no disturbing sounds in the night?"
"No; sir. We wouldn't be likely to; the servants' rooms are all
at the top of the house and the staircase leading to them has a
brick wall on either side, like stairs leading to an ordinary attic,
and there's a door at the bottom which shuts off all sound from
below." It was the longest sentence the butler had indulged in and
he paused for breath.
"Who closes the house at night. Grimes?"
"I do, sir.
"Why did you leave the window in the reception room open?"
"I didn't, sir," was the prompt denial.
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