LITMIR.BIZ

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think the poor girl was so agitated she did not know what she was saying," he replied somewhat shortly, and as if he did not wish to dwell on the subject.

      But I was not to be turned from it

      "It is not like Miss Gardiner," I went on, "to lose her poise in an emergency. She is usually so calm and self-possessed."

      "I do not consider Miss Gardiner's a calm temperament," said Crane; "I think she is decidedly emotional."

      "Emotional, yes; but she has a wonderful control over her emotions. And aside from that, she positively contradicted herself this morning. I wonder if she did walk around to the west side of the balcony and look in at the library window." This was mere idle speculation on my part, but it had a strange effect on Gilbert Crane.

      "What do you mean?" he cried angrily. "Are you insinuating anything against Miss Gardiner's veracity, or do you perhaps consider her implicated in the affair?"

      "I have no thought of Miss Gardiner, save such as are most honorable and loyal," I said; "but, by the way, Crane, what sort of a gown did she wear last night?"

      "I don't know, I'm sure. I'm no authority on ladies' dress. I never notice their furbelows." Somehow, the emphasis with which he said this made me think he was overdoing it, and that perhaps he was not so ignorant as he wished me to suppose. But I had no desire to antagonize him, so I dropped the discussion of Irene altogether.

      He was amiable enough then, and we returned to the house, chatting affably.

      Determined to settle a certain point, I went in search of Miss Maxwell, and found that good lady in the study with her brother.

      "Miss Miranda," I said, without subterfuge, "what sort of a gown did Miss Gardiner wear last evening?"

      "Irene? Why, she had on a lovely rose-colored silk-gauze—a sort of pineapple material."

      "Was it trimmed with black spangles?"

      "No, Peter, it was all pink."

      She didn't inquire why I wished to know; indeed, I think she scarcely realized what she was talking about, for she spoke almost automatically.

      I understood this, for all day she had seemed dazed and bewildered, and unable to concentrate her mind.

      "What is it, Peter?" asked Mr. Maxwell, "have you learned anything new?"

      They were very pathetic, these two old people, who had lost their only link to the world of youth and happiness, but the brother seemed to me especially to be pitied. Owing to his deafness, he heard nothing except what was directly addressed to him, and was naturally anxious for any side-lights on the affair.

      "No, sir," I replied, "nothing new. But I think we shall soon hear Miss Leslie's statement, and then we will know where to begin our work."

      "Leave no stone unturned, my boy; call on me for any money you may need, and spare no trouble or expense in your efforts. You're something of a detective yourself, aren't you, Peter? Can't you ferret this thing out?"

      "I mean to try, sir," I replied. "But we have lost so much time, and there is so little evidence, I have small hope of success."

      "Have you any theory or suspicion?" asked Mr. Maxwell.

      I couldn't tell him of my finding the spangles, and I hadn't a thought of Irene that could deserve the name suspicion, but he seemed to notice my hesitation.

      "You needn't answer that," he said in a kind way, "only remember this, my boy. Be careful how you proceed on suspicion, unless your proof is pretty positive. Trace your clues carefully, and don't let them mislead you."

      It seemed as if he must have read my thought—or had he too found some spangles?

      Well, at any rate, I would follow his advice, and be very careful before I let even my own thoughts doubt Irene.

      And now we heard the people coming down from up-stairs, and all hastened back to the drawing-room.

      Since Mildred's assertion that Philip was killed by an intruder, the district attorney had been called in, and had of course attended the whole inquest. He was a Mr. Edwards, and seemed to be, an alert and intelligent man.

      Like the rest of us, he eagerly awaited the expected statement, and when the Coroner rose, the general excitement, though subdued, was intense.

      Chapter X.

       Mildred's Strange Story

       Table of Contents

      "I will call the next witness," the coroner announced, "Miss Mildred Leslie."

      There was an expectant hush all over the room, as Mildred came through the door, supported on one side by the white-capped nurse and on the other by Doctor Sheldon. Edith Whiting followed, looking very anxious, and, it seemed to me, annoyed. I knew she thought her sister was not well enough to go through this ordeal, but I knew, too, that it must be gone through, for of course this testimony was the most important of all.

      Mr. Billings looked at his witness almost with consternation, when he saw how weak and fragile she appeared, and he spoke in very gentle tones.

      "Miss Leslie," he said, "I will detain you no longer than is absolutely necessary. Will you tell, in your own words, the story of what occurred last evening in the library?"

      Mildred stirred uneasily in the big chair, where the nurse had placed her, and grasped nervously at the hand of Miss Lathrop as she sat beside her. The nurse, the doctor and Edith Whiting were all looking anxiously at Milly as if afraid of her collapse.

      But seeming to nerve herself, with an effort, the girl began:

      "Philip Maxwell and I were in the library, and had been there some time, when a man appeared."

      "Wait a moment, Miss Leslie," interrupted Mr. Billings. "I must ask for more details. Excuse me, but on what subjects were you and Mr. Maxwell conversing?"

      "Do I have to tell that?" and Milly smiled at the coroner, looking almost like her old self again.

      "I'm sorry to annoy you,"—Mr. Billings was certainly under the spell of Milly's smile,—"but I must ask you to."

      "Well, then," and Milly pouted a little, "he was asking me to marry him."

      "And you said?"

      "Oh, I refused to. I had refused him lots of times before. He knew I didn't care for him,—that way."

      "He knew then, that his was a hopeless suit?"

      "He certainly did."

      "Why, then, did he continue to insist upon it?"

      "Well, he said that he had something to tell me that would make me change my mind."

      "What was it?"

      "I don't know, I'm sure. Before he had time to tell me, that awful man came, and—"

      Milly put her hands up to her face, and swayed from side to side, as her thoughts flew back to the dreadful scene. Miss Lathrop put an arm around her, and offered her smelling-salts, while Edith Whiting whispered to the doctor, who only shook his head.

      Indeed, all the members of the household sympathized with the poor little girl, suffering from shock and real illness. But the coroner and the District Attorney were determined to get her story if possible.

      "Rest a few moments, Miss Leslie," said Mr. Billings, "and then try to continue."

      "It's an outrage," murmured old Mr. Maxwell; "it's a shame to torment the poor child!"

      "But better to get it over at once," said Lord Clarendon, who was gravely listening to the proceedings of the inquest.

      I liked the Earl's manner; though solicitous for Mildred's comfort, he seemed to desire that the inquiry should go on as steadily as possible, toward the discovery of the truth.

      "Never

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