ell my name had sounded uttered in the sonorous
tones of the Coroner, and how grateful I ought to be for the courage I
had displayed in substituting the genteel name of Amelia for the weak
and sentimental one of Araminta, when I became conscious that the eyes
directed towards me were filled with an expression not easy to
understand. I should not like to call it admiration and will not call it
amusement, and yet it seemed to be made up of both. While I was puzzling
myself over it, the first question came.

As my examination before the Coroner only brought out the facts already
related, I will not burden you with a detailed account of it. One
portion alone may be of interest. I was being questioned in regard to
the appearance of the couple I had seen entering the Van Burnam mansion,
when the Coroner asked if the young woman's step was light, or if it
betrayed hesitation.

I replied: "No hesitation; she moved quickly, almost gaily."

"And he?"

"Was more moderate; but there is no signification in that; he may have
been older."

"No theories, Miss Butterworth; it is facts we are after. Now, do you
know that he was older?"

"No, sir."

"Did you get any idea as to his age?"

"The impression he made was that of being a young man."

"And his height?"

"Was medium, and his figure slight and elegant. He moved as a gentleman
moves; of this I can speak with great positiveness."

"Do you think you could identify him, Miss Butterworth, if you should
see him?"

I hesitated, as I perceived that the whole swaying mass eagerly awaited
my reply. I even turned my head because I saw others doing so; but I
regretted this when I found that I, as well as others, was glancing
towards the door beyond which the Van Burnams were supposed to sit. To
cover up the false move I had made--for I had no wish as yet to centre
suspicion upon anybody--I turned my face quickly back to the crowd and
declared in as emphatic a tone as I could command:

"I have thought I could do so if I saw him under the same circumstances
as those in which my first impression was made. But lately I have begun
to doubt even that. I should never dare trust to my memory in this
regard."

The Coroner looked disappointed, and so did the people around me.

"It is a pity," remarked the Coroner, "that you did not see more
plainly. And, now, how did these persons gain an entrance into the
house?"

I answered in the most succinct way possible.

I told them how he