"State your full name, madam," directed Coroner Penfield, eyeing
her dainty beauty with admiration.
"Margaret Perry Brewster," she answered. "Widow of Louis C.
Brewster. Both I and my late husband were born and lived in Los
Angeles, California."
"Are you visiting the Misses McIntyre?"
"Yes." Mrs. Brewster spoke in a chatty impersonal manner. "I
have been with them since the first of the month."
"Did you attend the Grosvenor dance?" asked the coroner.
"No; the affair was only given for the debutantes of last fall and
did not include married people," she explained. "It was a warm
night and Colonel McIntyre asked Mr. Benjamin Clymer, who was
dining with him, and me, to go for a motor ride, leaving Barbara
at the Grosvenors' en route. We did so, returning to the house
about eleven o'clock, and sat talking until about midnight in the
reception room, then Colonel McIntyre drove Mr. Clymer home, and
I went to my room."
"Were you awakened by any noises during the night?" inquired
Penfield.
"No; I heard no noises.
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