"
"What time was that?"
"A quarter after four Monday morning."
"Did he come in quietly, like a man trying to avoid attention?"
"Not particularly. It would have been of no use. The dog was barking."
"What did he say?"
"That he had been out for medicine. That his wife was sick."
"Do you know a pharmacist named Alexander--Jonathan Alexander?"
"There is such a one, but I don't know him."
I was excused, and Mr. Reynolds was called. He had heard no quarreling
that Sunday night; had even heard Mrs. Ladley laughing. This was
about nine o'clock. Yes, they had fought in the afternoon. He had not
overheard any words, but their voices were quarrelsome, and once he
heard a chair or some article of furniture overthrown. Was awakened
about two by footsteps on the stairs, followed by the sound of oars
in the lower hall. He told his story plainly and simply. Under
cross-examination admitted that he was fond of detective stories and
had tried to write one himself; that he had said at the store that
he would like to see that "conceited ass" swing, referring to the
prisoner; that he had sent flowers to Jennie Brice at the theater, and
had made a few advances to her, without success.
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