did not. It was because of his bad temper that I went away to live by myself. I hoped, too, that if I were not here to anger him, which I often did, he might be more gentle to Janet."
"Did it turn out that way?"
"I fear not, to any considerable extent. I think he could not control his temper, even if he tried, and it was his custom to vent his wrath on whomever happened to be nearest."
"You also knew of the conditions of your uncle's will?"
"Yes. It was no secret. He had always told us we two were his sole heirs, but, though he seemed willing to leave us his money, he was not generous with it while alive."
"What is your business, Mr. Lawrence?"
"I am an artist—or, at least, an illustrator. I make pictures for books and magazines."
"You find it lucrative?"
"Sufficiently so. My tastes are not extravagant, and I earn enough by my work to gratify my simple ambitions. I trust I shall make a worthy use of my inheritance, but I had hoped not to come into it for many years yet."
This last remark jarred on me. I didn't want to think the young man hypocritical, and yet that attitude as to his inheritance seemed to me not quite ingenuous.
"Did Robert Pembroke have any enemy that you know of?"
"Not that I know of definitely, and none that I would suspect of crime. But I know very little of my uncle's business affairs or his acquaintances. He was not at all communicative, and I was not curious about such matters."
"He had callers occasionally?"
"Yes."
"Of what sort?"
"Business men, his lawyer, various agents who transacted business for him, and sometimes strangers who came to ask contributions for charitable purposes, or perhaps to interest him in financial schemes."
"He always saw these visitors?"
"Yes; Mr. Pembroke was always ready to see any one who called. I suppose, as he never went out, it provided diversion and entertainment for him."
"He always treated them politely?"
"Perhaps not that, but he was decent to them. However, he frequently used them as targets for his ill temper."
"They resented this?"
"That depended on their errand. If they were asking favors, they were naturally more patient than if they were there to transact my uncle's business."
"Your uncle also vented his ill-temper on his servants, I understand?"
"He certainly did. No servant ever staid very long in his employ."
"Can you think of any servant who has lived with him who might be implicated in this crime?"
George Lawrence paused, and seemed to be thinking over the line of servants who had come and gone. At last he shook his head; "Not definitely," he said. "I don't remember them individually. But there were several who were so badly treated by my uncle that it would not be surprising if they had held revengeful thoughts toward him. However, I could not go so far as to accuse any one of them."
"And you can't throw any light on these various articles collected from Mr. Pembroke's bedroom, and which we hope will prove to be clues to the discovery of the criminal."
Although the Coroner's words were straightforward enough, the glance he cast on the various articles I had laid before him, proved that he had little serious hope of assistance from them.
George Lawrence was even more plainly of an opinion that they were valueless. He glanced at them with an air of utter indifference, saying: "I really know nothing of them, I assure you."
"You have no idea who is the J. S. who signed his initials to this telegram?"
To my surprise, and I doubt not, also to the surprise of all present, George Lawrence turned to his cousin and smiled. It was a flashing smile, as if caused by a humorous thought, and it seemed so out of key with the proceedings, that it jarred on my sense of the fitness of things.
But I was even more surprised when Miss Pembroke flashed back an answering smile, showing entire comprehension of her cousin's meaning.
"You know something of the matter," affirmed the coroner, looking a little annoyed at the attitude of his witness.
"I am not sure that I do," said Lawrence, "but I will tell you what is in my mind. For many years my uncle lived in fear of a personage whom he called J. S. Though rarely in humorous mood, my uncle would sometimes make jesting references to this J. S., as if he were in fear of him. When we asked him what name the initials stood for, he told us John Strong, but told us in such a way that he gave us clearly to understand that was not the real name of J. S. And so we came to look upon John Strong as a sort of mythical personage, and as the only one of whom my uncle was afraid. He has sometimes said to us, 'J. S. will catch me yet, if I'm not careful,' or, 'J. S. must never know of this.' It is our opinion, though uncorroborated by any known facts, that this man was once a partner of my uncle in business."
"A long time ago?"
"Yes; many years ago. These matters should be explained to you by my uncle's lawyer, but since he is not here, I will tell you what I know of this thing, though it is not much. As nearly as I could piece it together from the few hints my uncle let fall, I gathered that he and this J. S. bought a cotton plantation together, many years ago. At first the investment was unsuccessful. Then my uncle bought out John Strong's share, and after that the property became exceedingly valuable. I am perfectly sure my uncle dealt justly by his partner so far as the legality of the transaction was concerned. But John Strong seemed to think that my uncle was under a sort of moral obligation to give him a portion of the later profits. Now this is all I know about it, and I am not sure that these details are quite accurate. But I do know that the partner's name was not really John Strong, and that my uncle used that name because the man had a strong hold over him in some way."
"But you think the partner's initials were J. S.?"
"I think so, yes; but I am not sure."
"You have never seen the man?"
"Not to my knowledge. My uncle often had callers who were strangers to my cousin and myself."
"This matter seems to me to be important," said the Coroner, looking again at the telegram which was signed J. S.; "This message is dated yesterday and advised Mr. Pembroke to 'expect J. S. tonight,' that is, last evening. It certainly must be looked into."
"It certainly should," agreed George Lawrence. "When you have as evidence a telegram from a man known to be an enemy, it seems as if it ought to be investigated."
"But, on the other hand," went on the Coroner, looking very serious, "we know that this J. S. did not come last evening, in accordance with his announcement. We have Miss Pembroke's evidence, in addition to that of the servant, that there was no caller here last evening. Then after Miss Pembroke put the night-chain on the door and retired, there was no possibility of the entrance of an intruder. Therefore, we are bound to conclude that J. S. did not keep his engagement with Mr. Pembroke,—if indeed this is a genuine message from him."
At this remark of the Coroner's I looked aghast. He had practically cast a doubt on the genuineness of the telegram, and this implied that it was manufactured evidence, and so pointed to deeper and more complicated villainy than the crime itself. Moreover Mr. Ross's face expressed incredulity at the whole story of the mythical John Strong.
I was indignant at this, for the very frankness with which Lawrence told the story, the unmistakable approval and agreement of Janet in all that he said, and the slightly amused air of both of them all seemed to me to prove that the John Strong episode, whether important or not, whether for or against the cause I had espoused, was at least a true story, and honestly set forth.
But there was no doubt that the Coroner, the Inspector, and the Jurymen, took views entirely opposite