s master every morning at seven o'clock, except otherwise instructed by
Sir Lemuel.

Another juror inquired of the witness whether he had received these
exceptional instructions on the previous night.

The witness answered that he had received such; that his master had sent
him with a message to his daughter, Miss Levison, requesting her to come
to his room, as he wished to have a talk with her. He delivered his
message through Miss Levison's maid, and returned to his master's room.
But when Miss Levison was announced Sir Lemuel dismissed him with
permission to retire to bed at once, and not to call his master in the
morning, but to wait until Sir Lemuel should ring his bell.

"I left Miss Levison with her father, your honor, and that was the last
time as ever I saw my master alive," concluded the valet, trembling like
a leaf.

"I presume that Miss Levison will be able to corroborate this part of
your testimony. Where _is_ Miss Levison? Let her be called," said
the coroner.

The family physician, who was present at the inquest, arose in his place
and said:

"Miss Levison, sir, is not now available as a witness. She is lying in
her chamber, nearly at the point of death, with brain fever."

"Lord bless my soul, I am sorry to hear that! But it is no wonder, poor
young lady, after such a shock," said the kind-hearted coroner.

"But here, sir," continued the doctor, "is a witness who, I think, will
be able to give us some light."

CHAPTER IX.

AFTER THE DISCOVERY.

"Sir, if you please, I request that this witness be immediately placed
under examination," said Lord Arondelle, who sat, with pale, stern
visage, among the spectators, now addressing the coroner.

"Yes, certainly, my lord. Let the man be called," answered the latter.

A short, stout, red-haired and freckle-faced boy, clothed in a well-worn
suit of gray tweed, came forward and was duly sworn.

"What is your name, my lad?" inquired the coroner's clerk.

"Cuddie McGill, an' it please your worship," replied the shock-headed
youth.

"Your age?"

"Anan?"

"How old are you?"

"Ou, ay, just nineteen come St. Andrew's Eve, at night."

"Where do you live?"

"Wi' my maister, Gillie Ferguson, the saddler, at Lone."

"Well now, then, what do you know about this case?" inquired the clerk,
who, pen in hand, had been busily taking down the unimportant,
preliminary answers of the witness under examination.

"Aweel, thin your worship, I ken ju