"How far was that from the gate into the road, sir?" he asked breathlessly.
"Within easy shooting distance for a revolver of that calibre, I should say. Any good marksman could have rung the bell."
"And you saw no one?"
"No; not a sign; the fact is I failed at the time to put two and two together. The thought of a possible murder never occurred to me. It was only afterwards that I began to appreciate what all this might mean, and now what you have said has driven it home."
"You think it was murder then, sir?"
"Yes, I do," replied West gravely. "It has all the marks, but who committed the crime? What was the motive? It will never do for us to make such a charge, after the coroner's verdict, without positive proof."
"No, sir."
"And you know of nothing which might clear this up?"
"No, sir; I've been with the Coolidges, sir, ever since Miss Natalie was a little girl, and I ain't heard of any trouble that ought to end in murder, sir."
"How old was Miss Coolidge when her father died?"
"She must have been seventeen, sir."
"And since then Percival Coolidge had full charge of the estate?"
"Practically, yes, sir; there was another trustee, but he died; and then, as I understand, Miss Natalie had some funds of her own."
West took a cigar from his pocket, and lit it. Although not altogether clear in his own mind, he had begun to see light. For a moment he smoked in silence in an endeavour to figure out his own duty, while Sexton, nervously clinching and unclinching his hands, watched and waited.