Yet as the Coroner uttered this acknowledgment, he realized as plainly as Mr. Gryce how many incongruous elements lay in the way of any such solution of the mystery.  If they accepted the foreigner’s account of himself,—­which for some reason neither seemed ready to dispute,—­into what a maze of improbabilities it at once led them!  A stranger just off ship!  The victim a mere schoolgirl!  The weapon such an unusual one as to be outre beyond belief.  Only a madman—­But there!  Travis had less the appearance of a lunatic than Mrs. Taylor.  It must have been an accident as Gryce said; and yet—­

If there is much virtue in an if, there is certainly a modicum of the same in a yet, and the Coroner, in full recognition of this stumbling-block, remarked with unusual dryness: 

“I agree with you that some half-dozen questions are necessary before we wade deeper into this quagmire.  Where shall we go to have it out?”

“The Curator will allow us to use his office.  I will see that Mr. Travis joins us there.”

“See that he comes before he has a chance to fall into one of his reveries.”

But quickly as Mr. Gryce worked, he was not speedy enough to prevent the result mentioned.  The man upon whose testimony so much hinged did not even lift his eyes when brought again into their presence.

The Coroner, in his determination to be satisfied on this point, made short work of rousing him from his abstraction.  With a few leading questions he secured his attention and then without preamble or apology asked him with what purpose he had come to America and why he had been so anxious to visit the museum that he hastened directly to it from the steamer without making an effort to locate himself in some hotel.

The ease with which this apparently ingenuous stranger had managed to meet the opening queries of this rough-and-ready official was suddenly broken.  He stammered and turned red and made so many abortive attempts to reply that the latter grew impatient and finally remarked: 

“If the truth will incriminate you, you are quite justified in holding it back!”

“Incriminate me!” With the repetition of this alarming word, a change of the most marked character took place in young Travis’ manner.  “What does that mean?” he asked.  “I am not sure that I understand your use of that word incriminate.”

Dr. Price explained himself, to the seeming horror of the startled Englishman.

“You think that of me!” he cried, “of me, who——­”

But here indignation made him speechless, till some feeling stronger than the one subduing him to silence forced him again into speech, and he supplemented in broken tones:  “I am only a stranger to you and consequently am willing to pardon your misconception of my character and the principles by which I regulate my life.  I have a horror of crime and all violence; besides, the young lady—­she awakened my deepest admiration and reverence.  I,”—­again he stopped; again he burst forth,—­“I would sooner have died myself than seen such angel graces laid low.  Let my emotion be proof of what I say.  It was a man of the hardest heart who killed her.”