account for by my growing
appreciation of her wonderful beauty.

Instead of funereal black, Miss Lloyd was clad all in white, and her
simple wool gown gave her a statuesque appearance; which, however, was
contradicted by the pathetic weariness in her face and the sad droop
of her lovely mouth. Her helplessness appealed to me, and, though she
assumed an air of composure, I well knew it was only assumed, and that
with some difficulty.

Resolving to make it as easy as possible for her, I did not ask her to
repeat the main facts, which I already knew.

"Then, Miss Lloyd," I said, in response to her disclaimer, "if you
cannot help me, perhaps I can help you. I have reason to think that
possibly Louis, your late uncle's valet, did not tell the truth in his
testimony at the coroner's inquest. I have reason to think that instead
of going around the house to the back entrance as he described, he went
around the other side, thus passing your uncle's office."

To my surprise this information affected Miss Lloyd much more seriously
than I supposed it would.

"What?" she said, and her voice was a frightened whisper. "What time did
he come home?"

"I don't know," I replied; "but you surely don't suspect Louis of
anything wrong. I was merely hoping, that if he did pass the office he
might have looked in, and so could tell us of your uncle's well-being at
that time."

"At what time?"

"At whatever time he returned home. Presumably rather late. But since
you are interested in the matter, will you not call Louis and let us
question him together?"

The girl fairly shuddered at this suggestion. She hesitated, and for a
moment was unable to speak. Of course this behavior on her part filled
my soul with awful apprehension. Could it be possible that she and Louis
were in collusion, and that she dreaded the Frenchman's disclosures? I
remembered the strange looks he had cast at her while being questioned
by the coroner. I remembered his vehement denial of having passed the
office that evening,--too vehement, it now seemed to me. However, if I
were to learn anything damaging to Florence Lloyd's integrity, I would
rather learn it now, in her presence, than elsewhere. So I again asked
her to send for the valet.

With a despairing look, as of one forced to meet an impending fate, she
rose, crossed the room and rang a bell. Then she returned to her seat
and said quietly, "You may ask the man such questions as you wish, Mr.
Burroughs,