“And why,” persisted the Coroner, edging forward in his interest and so allowing me to catch a glimpse of Mr. Gryce’s face as he too leaned forward in his anxiety to hear every word that fell from this remarkable witness—“why do you speak of her fear? What reason have you to think she suffered apprehension after your departure?”
“Why?” echoed the witness, as if astounded by the other’s lack of perspicacity. “Did she not kill herself in a moment of terror and discouragement? Leaving her, as I did, in a condition of health and good spirits, can you expect me to attribute her death to any other cause than a sudden attack of frenzy caused by terror?”
“Ah!” exclaimed the Coroner in a suspicious tone, which no doubt voiced the feelings of most people present; “then you think your wife committed suicide?”
“Most certainly,” replied the witness, avoiding but two pairs of eyes in the whole crowd, those of his father and brother.
“With a hat-pin,” continued the Coroner, letting his hitherto scarcely suppressed irony become fully visible in voice and manner, “thrust into the back of her neck at a spot young ladies surely would have but little reason to know is peculiarly fatal! Suicide! when she was found crushed under a pile of bric-à-brac, which was thrown down or fell upon her hours after she received the fatal thrust!”
“I do not know how else she could have died,” persisted the witness, calmly, “unless she opened the door to some burglar. And what burglar would kill a woman in that way, when he could pound her with his fists? No; she was frenzied and stabbed herself in desperation; or the thing was done by accident, God knows how! And as for the testimony of the experts—we all know how easily the wisest of them can be mistaken even in matters of as serious import as these. If all the experts in the world”—here his voice rose and his nostrils dilated till his aspect was actually commanding and impressed us all like a sudden transformation—“If all the experts in the world were to swear that those shelves were thrown upon her after she had lain therefor four hours dead, I would not believe them. Appearances or no appearances, blood or no blood, I here declare that she pulled that cabinet over in her death-struggle; and upon the truth of this fact I am ready to rest my honor as a man and my integrity as her husband.”
An uproar immediately followed, amid which could be heard cries of “He lies!” “He’s a fool!” The attitude taken by the witness was so unexpected that the most callous person present could not fail to be affected by it. But curiosity is as potent a passion as surprise, and in a few minutes all was still again and everybody intent to hear how the Coroner would answer these asseverations.
“I have heard of a blind man denying the existence of light,” said that gentleman, “but never before of a sensible being like yourself urging the most untenable theories in face of such evidence as has been brought before us during this inquiry. If your wife committed suicide, or if the entrance of the point of a hat-pin into her spine was effected by accident, how comes the head of the pin to have been found so many feet away from her and in such a place as the parlor register?”
“It may have flown there when it broke, or, what is much more probable, been kicked there by some of the many people who passed in and out of the room between the time of her death and that of its discovery.”
“But the register was found closed,” urged the Coroner. “Was it not, Mr. Gryce?”
That person thus appealed to, rose for an instant.
“It was,” said he, and deliberately sat down again.