n indignant
whispers, and it was quite evident that they did not approve of Mr.
Crawford's treatment of his niece.

Mr. Philip Crawford looked astounded, and also dismayed, which surprised
me, as I had understood that had it not been for Miss Lloyd, he himself
would have been his brother's heir.

Mr. Randolph showed only a lawyer-like, noncommittal expression, and
Gregory Hall, too, looked absolutely impassive.

The coroner grew more alert, as if he had discovered something of
definite import, and asked eagerly,

"Did he do so? Did he go to his lawyer's and make another will?"

Miss Lloyd's cold calm had returned, and seemed to rebuke the coroner's
excited interest.

"I do not know," she replied. "He went out after dinner, as I have told
you, but I retired to my bedroom before he came home."

"And you did not come down-stairs again last night?"

"I did not."

The words were spoken in a clear, even tone; but something made me doubt
their truth. It was not the voice or inflection; there was no hesitation
or stammer, but a sudden and momentary droop of Miss Lloyd's eyelids
seemed to me to give the lie to her words.

I wondered if Gregory Hall had the same thought, for he slowly raised
his own eyes and looked at her steadily for the first time since her
testimony began.

She did not look at him. Instead, she was staring at the butler.
Either she had reason to fear his knowledge, or I was fanciful. With an
endeavor to shake off these shadows of suspicion, I chanced to look
at Parmalee. To my disgust, he was quite evidently gloating over the
disclosures being made by the witness. I felt my anger rise, and I
determined then and there that if suspicion of guilt or complicity
should by any chance unjustly light on that brave and lovely girl, I
would make the effort of my life to clear her from it.

"You did not come down again," the coroner went on pointedly, "to ask
your uncle if he had changed his will?"

"No, I did not," she replied, with such a ring of truth in her scornful
voice, that my confidence returned, and I truly believed her.

"Then you were not in your uncle's office last evening at all?"

"I was not."

"Nor through the day?"

She reflected a moment. "No, nor through the day. It chanced I had no
occasion to go in there yesterday at all."

At these assertions of Miss Lloyd's, the Frenchman, Louis, looked
greatly disturbed. He tried very hard to conceal his agitation, but
it was not at all dif