alet. He was just coming
down the stairs. He looked surprised, for he said Mr. Crawford was not
in his room, and his bed hadn't been slept in."

"Did he seem alarmed?"

"No, sir. Not knowing what I knew, he didn't seemed alarmed. But he
seemed agitated, for of course it was most unusual not finding Mr.
Crawford in his own room."

"How did Louis show his agitation?" broke in Mr. Orville.

"Well, sir, perhaps he wasn't to say agitated,--he looked more blank,
yes, as you might say, blank."

"Was he trembling?" persisted Mr. Orville, "was he pale?" and the
coroner frowned slightly at this juror's repeated inquisitiveness.

"Louis is always pale," returned the butler, seeming to make an effort
to speak the exact truth.

"Then of course you couldn't judge of his knowledge of the matter," Mr.
Orville said, with an air of one saying something of importance.

"He had no knowledge of the matter, if you mean Mr. Crawford's death,"
said Lambert, looking disturbed and a little bewildered.

"Tell your own story, Lambert," said Coroner Monroe, rather crisply.
"We'll hear what Louis has to say later."

"Well, sir, then I took Louis to the office, and we both saw the--the
accident, and we wondered what to do. I was for telephoning right off
to Doctor Fairchild, but Louis said first we'd better tell Miss Florence
about it."

"And did you?"

"We went out in the hall, and just then Elsa, Miss Lloyd's maid, was on
the stairs. So we told her, and told her to tell Miss Lloyd, and ask her
for orders. Well, her orders was for us to call up Doctor Fairchild,
and so we did. He came as soon as he could, and he's been in charge ever
since, sir."

"A straightforward story, clearly told," observed the coroner, and then
he called upon Louis, the valet. This witness, a young Frenchman, was
far more nervous and excited than the calm-mannered butler, but the gist
of his story corroborated Lambert's.

Asked if he was not called upon to attend his master at bedtime, he
replied,

"Non, M'sieu; when Monsieur Crawford sat late in his library, or his
office, he dismiss me and say I may go to bed, or whatever I like.
Almost alway he tell me that."

"And he told you this last night?"

"But yes. When I lay out his clothes for dinner, he then tell me so."

Although the man seemed sure enough of his statements he was evidently
troubled in his mind. It might have been merely that his French nature
was more excitable than the stolid indifferen