And an emergency it was; for though the two before-mentioned jurors, who had been intimate friends of her uncle, were doubtless in sympathy with Miss Lloyd, and though the coroner was kindly disposed toward her, yet the other jurors took little pains to conceal their suspicious attitude, and as for Mr. Parmalee, he was fairly eager with anticipation of the revelations about to come.

“Your name?” said the corner briefly, as if conquering his own sympathy by an unnecessarily formal tone.

“Florence Lloyd,” was the answer.

“Your position in this house?”

“I am the niece of Mrs. Joseph Crawford, who died many years ago.  Since her death I have lived with Mr. Crawford, occupying in every respect the position of his daughter, though not legally adopted as such.”

“Mr. Crawford was always kind to you?”

“More than kind.  He was generous and indulgent, and, though not of an affectionate nature, he was always courteous and gentle.”

“Will you tell us of the last time you saw him alive?”

Miss Lloyd hesitated.  She showed no embarrassment, no trepidation; she merely seemed to be thinking.

Her gaze slowly wandered over the faces of the servants, Mrs. Pierce, Mr. Philip Crawford, the jurors, and, lastly, dwelt for a moment on the now anxious, worried countenance of Gregory Hall.

Then she said slowly, but in an even, unemotional voice:  “It was last night at dinner.  After dinner was over, my uncle went out, and before he returned I had gone to my room.”

“Was there anything unusual about his appearance or demeanor at dinner-time?”

“No; I noticed nothing of the sort.”

“Was he troubled or annoyed about any matter, that you know of?”

“He was annoyed about one matter that has been annoying him for some time:  that is, my engagement to Mr. Hall.”

Apparently this was the answer the coroner had expected, for he nodded his head in a satisfied way.

The jurors, too, exchanged intelligent glances, and I realized that the acquaintances of the Crawfords were well informed as to Miss Lloyd’s romance.

“He did not approve of that engagement?” went on the coroner, though he seemed to be stating a fact, rather than asking a question.

“He did not,” returned Miss Lloyd, and her color rose as she observed the intense interest manifest among her hearers.

“And the subject was discussed at the dinner table?”

“It was.”

“What was the tenor of the conversation?”

“To the effect that I must break the engagement.”

“Which you refused to do?”

“I did.”

Her cheeks were scarlet now, but a determined note had crept into her voice, and she looked at her betrothed husband with an air of affectionate pride that, it seemed to me, ought to lift any man into the seventh heaven.  But I noted Mr. Hall’s expression with surprise.  Instead of gazing adoringly at this girl who was thus publicly proving her devotion to him, he sat with eyes cast down, and frowning—­positively frowning—­while his fingers played nervously with his watch-chain.