But though still calm, she had lost her poise to some degree.  The lack of responsive glances from Gregory Hall’s eyes seemed to perplex her.  The eager interest of the six jurymen made her restless and embarrassed.  The coroner’s abrupt questions frightened her, and I feared her self-enforced calm must sooner or later give way.

And now I noticed that Louis, the valet, was again darting those uncontrollable glances toward her.  And as the agitated Frenchman endeavored to control his own countenance, I chanced to observe that the pretty-faced maid I had noticed before, was staring fixedly at Louis.  Surely there were wheels within wheels, and the complications of this matter were not to be solved by the simple questions of the coroner.  But of course this preliminary examination was necessary, and it was from this that I must learn the main story, and endeavor to find out the secrets afterward.

“What was your uncle’s response when you refused to break your engagement to Mr. Hall?” was the next inquiry.

Again Miss Lloyd was silent for a moment, while she directed her gaze successively at several individuals.  This time she favored Mr. Randolph, who was Mr. Crawford’s lawyer, and Philip Crawford, the dead man’s brother.  After looking in turn at these two, and glancing for a moment at Philip Crawford’s son, who sat by his side, she said, in a lower voice than she had before used

“He said he would change his will, and leave none of his fortune to me.”

“His will, then, has been made in your favor?”

“Yes; he has always told me I was to be sole heiress to his estate, except for some comparatively small bequests.”

“Did he ever threaten this proceeding before?”

“He had hinted it, but not so definitely.”

“Did Mr. Hall know of Mr. Crawford’s objection to his suit?”

“He did.”

“Did he know of your uncle’s hints of disinheritance?”

“He did.”

“What was his attitude in the matter?”

Florence Lloyd looked proudly at her lover.

“The same as mine,” she said.  “We both regretted my uncle’s protest, but we had no intention of letting it stand in the way of our happiness.”

Still Gregory Hall did not look at his fiancee.  He sat motionless, preoccupied, and seemingly lost in deep thought, oblivious to all that was going on.

Whether his absence from Sedgwick at the time of the murder made him feel that he was in no way implicated, and so the inquiry held no interest for him; or whether he was looking ahead and wondering whither these vital questions were leading Florence Lloyd, I had no means of knowing.  Certainly, he was a man of most impassive demeanor and marvellous self-control.

“Then, in effect, you defied your uncle?”

“In effect, I suppose I did; but not in so many words.  I always tried to urge him to see the matter in a different light.”