I liked Mr. Randolph very much.  Indeed it seemed to me that the men of West Sedgwick were of a fine class as to both intellect and judgment, and though Coroner Monroe was not a brilliant man, I began to realize that he had some sterling qualities and was distinctly just and fair in his decisions.

As for Gregory Hall, he seemed like a man free from a great anxiety.  Though still calm and reserved in appearance, he was less nervous, and quietly awaited further developments.  His attitude was not hard to understand.  Mr. Crawford had objected to his secretary’s engagement to his niece, and now Mr. Crawford’s objections could no longer matter.  Again, it was not surprising that Mr. Hall should be glad to learn that his fiancee was the heiress she had supposed herself to he.  Even though he were marrying the girl simply for love of her, a large fortune in addition was by no means to be despised.  At any rate, I concluded that Gregory Hall thought so.

As often happened, Parmalee read my thoughts.  “A fortune-hunter,” he murmured, with a meaning glance at Hall.

I remembered that Mr. Carstairs, at the inn had said the same thing, and I thoroughly believed it myself.

“Has he any means of his own?”

“No,” said Parmalee, “except his salary, which was a good one from Mr. Crawford, but of course he’s lost that now.”

“I don’t feel drawn toward him.  I suppose one would call him a gentleman and yet he isn’t manly.”

“He’s a cad,” declared Parmalee; “any fortune hunter is a cad, and I despise him.”

Although I tried to hold my mind impartially open regarding Mr. Hall, I was conscious of an inclination to despise him myself.  But I was also honest enough to realize that my principal reason for despising him was because he had won the hand of Florence Lloyd.

I heard Coroner Monroe draw a long sigh.

Clearly, the man was becoming more and more apprehensive, and really dreaded to go on with the proceedings, because he was fearful of what might be disclosed thereby.

The gold bag still lay on the table before him; the yellow rose petals were not yet satisfactorily accounted for; Miss Lloyd’s agitation and sudden loss of consciousness, though not surprising in the circumstances, were a point in her disfavor.  And now the revelation that Mr. Crawford was actually on the point of disinheriting his niece made it impossible to ignore the obvious connection between that fact and the event of the night.

But no one had put the thought into words, and none seemed inclined to.

Mechanically, Mr. Monroe called the next witness on his list, and Mrs. Pierce answered.

For some reason she chose to stand during her interview, and as she rose, I realized that she was a prim little personage, but of such a decided nature that she might have been stigmatized by the term stubborn.  I had seen such women before; of a certain soft, outward effect, apparently pliable and amenable, but in reality, deep, shrewd and clever.