“It was dark. I stood just inside.
Then something rushed past me and out of the door,
a something—I don’t know what—a
woman, I thought at first, in white.”
“If the room was dark, how could you tell it
was white?”
“There was a faint light—enough to
see that. There was no noise —just
a sort of swishing sound.”
“What did you do then?”
“I waited a moment, and hurried back to the
after house.”
“Was the axe gone then?”
“I do not know.”
“Did you see the axe at that time?”
“No.”
“Did you touch it?”
“I have never touched it, at that time or before.”
She could not be shaken in her testimony and was excused.
She had borne her grilling exceedingly well, and,
in spite of her flippancy, there was a ring of sincerity
about the testimony that gave it weight.
Following her evidence, the testimony of Tom, the
cook, made things look bad for Singleton, by connecting
him with Mrs. Johns’s intruder in the captain’s
room. He told of Singleton’s offer to make
him a key to the galley with wire. It was clear
that Singleton had been a prisoner in name only, and
this damaging statement was given weight when, on
my recall later, I identified the bunch of keys, the
file, and the club that I had taken from Singleton’s
mattress. It was plain enough that, with Singleton
able to free himself as he wished, the attack on Burns
and the disappearance of the axe were easily enough
accounted for. It would have been possible, also,
to account for the white figure that had so alarmed
the men, on the same hypothesis. Cross-examination
of Tom by Mr. Goldstein, Singleton’s attorney,
brought out one curious fact. He had made no
dark soup or broth for the after house. Turner
had taken nothing during his illness but clam bouillon,
made with milk, and the meals served to the four women
had been very light. “They lived on toast
and tea, mostly,” he said.
That completed the taking of evidence for the day.
In spite of the struggles of the clever young Jew,
the weight of testimony was against Singleton.
But there were curious discrepancies.
Turner went on the stand the next morning.
TURNER’S STORY
“Your name?”
“Marshall Benedict Turner.”
“Your residence?”
“West 106th Street, New York City.”
“Your occupation?”
“Member of the firm of L. Turner’s Sons,
shipowners. In the coast trade.”
“Do you own the yacht Ella?”
“Yes.”
“Do you recognize this chart?”
“Yes. It is the chart of the after house
of the Ella.”
“Will you show where your room is on the drawing?”
“Here.”
“And Mr. Vail’s?”
“Next, connecting through a bath-room.”
“Where was Mr. Vail’s bed on the chart?”
