yielded to the drowsiness which possessed me and fell into a deep sleep. I did not wake again till morning."
Here requested to relate how and when he became acquainted with the fact of the murder, he substantiated, in all particulars, the account of the matter already given by the butler; which subject being exhausted, the coroner went on to ask if he had noted the condition of the library table after the body had been removed.
"Somewhat; yes, sir."
"What was on it?"
"The usual properties, sir, books, paper, a pen with the ink dried on it, besides the decanter and the wineglass from which he drank the night before."
"Nothing more?"
"I remember nothing more."
"In regard to that decanter and glass," broke in the juryman of the watch and chain, "did you not say that the latter was found in the same condition in which you saw it at the time you left Mr. Leavenworth sitting in his library?"
"Yes, sir, very much."
"Yet he was in the habit of drinking a full glass?"
"Yes, sir."
"An interruption must then have ensued very close upon your departure, Mr. Harwell."
A cold bluish pallor suddenly broke out upon the young man’s face. He started, and for a moment looked as if struck by some horrible thought. "That does not follow, sir," he articulated with some difficulty. "Mr. Leavenworth might—" but suddenly stopped, as if too much distressed to proceed.
"Go on, Mr. Harwell, let us hear what you have to say."
