A moment later the white men strode into an absolutely empty square. Their heels made a sharp sound on the flags, and the walls threw a clear echo down upon them.
A cur that had been left napping in the sun woke with a start, looked about in a bewildered fashion, gave a frightened yelp, and bolted through a doorway.
It was all clearly not to the taste of the Coroner, and he cast an uneasy glance about him.
“That’s the widow’s room over there, if she hasn’t moved. We’ll give it a look first,” said the detective.
The door was off the latch, and, without knocking, he kicked it open and walked in.
The room was small, but immaculately clean. Beneath a patched white quilt could be seen the form of a woman. Two other women were sitting in utter silence beside the bed.
“Drop that,” the detective commanded. “And answer some questions.”
“Where were you yesterday and last night?”
The reply came slowly, as though speaking were great pain.
“I been sick in dis bed now t’ree day an’ night.”
“We been settin’ wid she, nursin’ she, all dat time,” one of the women said.
And the other supplemented, “Dat de Gawd’ trut’.”
“You would swear to that?” asked the Coroner.
“There you are,” said the Coroner to the plain-clothes man, “an air-tight alibi.”
The detective regarded him for a moment with supreme contempt. Then he stepped forward and jerked the sheet from Serena’s face, which lay upon the pillow as immobile as a model done in brown clay.
“You know damn well that you were out yesterday!” he snapped. “I have a good mind to get the wagon and carry you in.”
But Serena had nothing to say, and neither had her handmaidens.
Then he turned a menacing frown upon them, as they sat motionless with lowered eyes.
They jumped slightly, and their eyes showed white around the iris. Suddenly they began to speak, almost in unison.
“We swear tuh Gawd, we done been hyuh wid she t’ree day.”
“Oh, Hell!” said the exasperated detective. “What’s the use? You might as well argue with a parrot-cage.”
“That woman is just as ill at this moment as you are,” he said to his unenthusiastic associate when they were again in the sunlight. “Her little burlesque show proves that, if nothing else. But there is her case all prepared. I don’t believe she killed Crown; she doesn’t look like that kind. She is either just playing safe, or she has something entirely different on her chest. But there’s her story; and you’ll never break in without witnesses of your own; and you’ll never get ’em.”