temper was certain to be bad. He was an inveterate scold, and sometimes would fly into a most ungovernable rage over nothing at all. But this was not my affair; he always paid his rent,—though only under protest, and after numerous requests."

"When you saw him yesterday, was he ill-tempered?"

"Very much so. I would say unusually so, except that he was usually as cross as any man could be."

[Pg 71]

[Pg 71]

"What was he cross about?"

"Everything and nothing. He railed at the government, the weather, his lawyer, his niece,—and in fact, spoke angrily upon any subject that was mentioned between us."

"Then you can tell us nothing, Mr. Whitaker, that will throw any light upon the crime that has been committed in your house?"

"Nothing at all."

"Would it be possible for a marauder or intruder to get in during the night?"

"Into the house, yes. The front doors are open until midnight. Each tenant is supposed to safeguard his own apartment."

"And you know of no questionable person who entered the house last night?"

"Certainly not. I have no reason to notice those who come or go. The elevator boy might tell you."

Mr. Whitaker was dismissed, and the elevator boy was sent for. He was rather a clever-looking young fellow of about seventeen, and his face, though impudent, was shrewd and intelligent.

"Samuel McGuire, me name is," he announced, in response to the Coroner's question; "but the fellers call me Solomon, cos I know mor'n they do.[Pg 72] I studies and reads every chance I gets, and they jes' loafs 'round."

[Pg 72]

"Well, Samuel, what can you tell us of Mr. Pembroke?"

"Nuttin good. But then they ain't much to tell. He never trun himself loose outen his own door; but I didn't mind his bein' canned, cos I knew he couldn't pry himself loose from a tip, any way. So I never seen him since the day he came; but gee, I've often heard him! Say, the Mauretoonia's fog-horn 

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