“You are not sure, sir, that this was done.
If my uncle, for some purpose of his own, had fired the pistol off yesterday, let us say—which is surely possible, if not probable—the like results would be observed, and the same conclusions drawn.”
“Miss Leavenworth,” the coroner went on, “the ball has been extracted from your uncle’s head!”
“Ah!”
“It corresponds with those in the cartridges found in his stand drawer, and is of the number used with this pistol.”
Her head fell forward on her hands; her eyes sought the floor; her whole attitude expressed disheartenment.
Seeing it, the coroner grew still more grave.
“Miss Leavenworth,” said he, “I have now some questions to put you concerning last night.
Where did you spend the evening?”
“Alone, in my own room.”
“You, however, saw your uncle or your cousin during the course of it?”
“No, sir; I saw no one after leaving the dinner table—except Thomas,” she added, after a moment’s pause.
“And how came you to see him?”
“He came to bring me the card of a gentleman who called.”
“May I ask the name of the gentleman?”
“The name on the card was Mr. Le Roy Robbins.”
The matter seemed trivial; but the sudden start given by the lady at my side made me remember it.
“Miss Leavenworth, when seated in your room, are you in the habit of leaving your door open?”
A startled look at this, quickly suppressed.
“Not in the habit; no, sir.”
“Why did you leave it open last night?”
“I was feeling warm.”
“No other reason?”
“I can give no other.”
“When did you close it?”
“Upon retiring.”
“Was that before or after the servants went up?”
“After.”
“Did you hear Mr. Harwell when he left the library and ascended to his room?”
“I did, sir.”
“How much longer did you leave your door open after that?”
“I—I—a few minutes—a—I cannot say,” she added, hurriedly.
“Cannot say?
Why?
Do you forget?”
“I forget just how long after Mr. Harwell came up I closed it.”
“Was it more than ten minutes?”
“Yes.”
“More than twenty?”
“Perhaps.”
How pale her face was, and how she trembled!
“Miss Leavenworth, according to evidence, your uncle came to his death not very long after Mr. Harwell left him.
If your door was open, you ought to have heard if any one went to his room, or any pistol shot was fired.
Now, did you hear anything?”
“I heard no confusion; no, sir.”
“Did you hear anything?”
“Nor any pistol shot.”
“Miss Leavenworth, excuse my persistence, but did you hear anything?”
“I heard a door close.”
“What door?”