The Gold Bag Part 10

"No, I did not," she replied, with such a ring of truth in her scornful voice, that my confidence returned, and I truly believed her.

"Then you were not in your uncle's office last evening at all?"

"I was not."

"Nor through the day?"

She reflected a moment. "No, nor through the day. It chanced I had no occasion to go in there yesterday at all."

At these a.s.sertions of Miss Lloyd's, the Frenchman, Louis, looked greatly disturbed. He tried very hard to conceal his agitation, but it was not at all difficult to read on his face an endeavor to look undisturbed at what he heard.

I hadn't a doubt, myself, that the man either knew something that would incriminate Miss Lloyd, or that they two had a mutual knowledge of some fact as yet concealed.

I was surprised that no one else seemed to notice this, but the attention of every one in the room was concentrated on the coroner and the witness, and so Louis's behavior pa.s.sed unnoticed.

At this juncture, Mr. Lemuel Porter spoke with some dignity.

"It would seem," he said, "that this concludes Miss Lloyd's evidence in the matter. She has carried the narrative up to the point where Mr. Joseph Crawford went out of his house after dinner. As she herself retired to her room before his return, and did not again leave her room until this morning, she can have nothing further to tell us bearing on the tragedy. And as it is doubtless a most painful experience for her, I trust, Mr. Coroner, that you will excuse her from further questioning."

"But wait a minute," Parmalee began, when Mr Hamilton interrupted him--"Mr. Porter is quite right," he said; "there is no reason why Miss Lloyd should be further troubled in this matter. I feel free to advise her dismissal from the witness stand, because of my acquaintance and friendship with this household. Our coroner and most of our jurors are strangers to Miss Lloyd, and perhaps cannot appreciate as I do the terrible strain this experience means to her."

"You're right Hamilton," said Mr. Philip Crawford; "I was remiss not to think of it myself. Mr. Monroe, this is not a formal inquest, and in the interest of kindness and humanity, I ask you to excuse Miss Lloyd from further questioning for the present."

I was surprised at the requests of these elderly gentlemen, for though it seemed to me that Miss Lloyd's testimony was complete, yet it also seemed as if Gregory Hall were the one to show anxiety that she be spared further annoyance.

However, Florence Lloyd spoke for herself.

"I am quite willing to answer any further questions," she said; "I have answered all you have asked, and I have told you frankly the truth.

Though it is far from pleasant to have my individual affairs thus brought to notice, I am quite ready to do anything to forward the cause of justice or to aid in any way the discovery of my uncle's murderer."

"Thank you," said Mr. Monroe; "I quite appreciate the extreme unpleasantness of your position. But, Miss Lloyd, there are a few more questions I must ask you. Pardon me if I repeat myself, but I ask you once more if you did not come down to your uncle's office last evening after he had returned from his call on Mr. Randolph."

As I watched Florence Lloyd I saw that her eyes did not turn toward the coroner, or toward her fiance, or toward the jury, but she looked straight at Louis, the valet, as she replied in clear tones,

"I did not."

VI. THE GOLD BAG

"Is this yours?" asked Mr. Monroe, suddenly whisking into sight the gold-mesh bag.

Probably his intent had been to startle her, and thus catch her off her guard. If so, he succeeded, for the girl was certainly startled, if only at the suddenness of the query.

"N-no," she stammered; "it's--it's not mine."

"Are you sure?" the coroner went on, a little more gently, doubtless moved by her agitation.

"I'm--I'm quite sure. Where did you find it?"

"What size gloves do you wear, Miss Lloyd?"

"Number six." She said this mechanically, as if thinking of something else, and her face was white.

"These are number six," said the coroner, as he took a pair of gloves from the bag. "Think again, Miss Lloyd. Do you not own a gold-chain bag, such as this?"

"I have one something like that--or, rather, I did have one."

"Ah! And what did you do with it?"

"I gave it to my maid, Elsa, some days ago."

"Why did you do that?"

"Because I was tired of it, and as it was a trifle worn, I had ceased to care to carry it."

"Is it not a somewhat expensive trinket to turn over to your maid?"

"No; they are not real gold. At least, I mean mine was not. It was gilt over silver, and cost only about twelve or fourteen dollars when new."

"What did you usually carry in it?"

"What every woman carries in such a bag. Handkerchief, some small change, perhaps a vanity-box, gloves, tickets--whatever would be needed on an afternoon's calling or shopping tour."

"Miss Lloyd, you have enumerated almost exactly the articles in this bag."

"Then that is a coincidence, for it is not my bag."

The girl was entirely self-possessed again, and even a little aggressive.

I admit that I did not believe her statements. Of course I could not be sure she was telling untruths, but her sudden embarra.s.sment at the first sight of the bag, and the way in which she regained her self-possession, made me doubt her clear conscience in the matter.

Parmalee, who had come over and sat beside me, whispered: "Striking coincidence, isn't it?"

Although his sarcasm voiced my own thoughts, yet it irritated me horribly to hear him say it.

"But ninety-nine women out of a hundred would experience the same coincidence," I returned.

"But the other ninety-eight weren't in the house last night, and she was."

At this moment Mrs. Pierce, whom I had suspected of feeling far deeper interest than she had so far shown, volunteered a remark.

"Of course that isn't Florence's bag," she said; "if Florence had gone to her uncle's office last evening, she would have been wearing her dinner gown, and certainly would not carry a street bag."

"Is this a street bag?" inquired Mr. Monroe, looking with a masculine helplessness at the gilt bauble.

"Of course it is," said Mrs. Pierce, who now that she had found her voice, seemed anxious to talk. "n.o.body ever carries a bag like that in the house,--in the evening."