The Gold Bag Part 11

"But," began Parmalee, "such a thing might have occurred, if Miss Lloyd had had occasion to go to her uncle's office with, we will say, papers or notes."

Personally I thought this an absurd suggestion, but Mr. Monroe seemed to take it seriously.

"That might be," he said, and I could see that momentarily the suspicions against Florence Lloyd were growing in force and were taking definite shape.

As I noted the expressions, on the various faces, I observed that only Mr. Philip Crawford and the jurors Hamilton and Porter seemed entirely in sympathy with the girl. The coroner, Parmalee, and even the lawyer, Randolph, seemed to be willing, almost eager for her to incriminate herself.

Gregory Hall, who should have been the most sympathetic of all, seemed the most coldly indifferent, and as for Mrs. Pierce, her actions were so erratic and uncertain, no one could tell what she thought.

"You are quite positive it is not your bag?" repeated the coroner once more.

"I'm positive it is not mine," returned Miss Lloyd, without undue emphasis, but with an air of dismissing the subject.

"Is your maid present?" asked the coroner. "Let her be summoned."

Elsa came forward, the pretty, timid young girl, of German effects, whom I had already noticed.

"Have you ever seen this bag before?" asked the coroner, holding it up before her.

"Yes, sir."

"When?"

"This morning, sir. Lambert showed it to me, sir. He said he found it in Mr. Crawford's office."

The girl was very pale, and trembled pitiably. She seemed afraid of the coroner, of Lambert, of Miss Lloyd, and of the jury. It might have been merely the unreasonable fear of an ignorant mind, but it had the appearance of some more definite apprehension.

Especially did she seem afraid of the man, Louis. Though perhaps the distressed glances she cast at him were not so much those of fear as of anxiety.

The coroner spoke kindly to her, and really seemed to take more notice of her embarra.s.sment, and make more effort to put her at her ease than he had done with Miss Lloyd.

"Is it Miss Lloyd's bag?"

"I don't think so, sir."

"Don't you know? As her personal maid, you must be acquainted with her belongings."

"Yes, sir. No, it isn't hers, sir."

But as this statement was made after a swift but noticeable glance of inquiry at her mistress, a slight distrust of Elsa formed in my own mind, and probably in the minds of others.

"She has one like this, has she not?"

"She--she did have, sir; but she--she gave it to me."

"Yes? Then go and get it and let us see it."

"I haven't it now, sir. I--I gave it away."

"Oh, you gave it away! To whom? Can you get it back?"

"No, sir; I gave it to my cousin, who sailed for Germany last week."

Miss Lloyd looked up in surprise, and that look of surprise told against her. I could see Parmalee's eyes gleam as he concluded in his own mind that the bag story was all false, was made up between mistress and maid, and that the part about the departing cousin was an artistic touch added by Elsa.

The coroner, too, seemed inclined to disbelieve the present witness, and he sat thoughtfully snapping the catch of the bag.

He turned again to Miss Lloyd. "Having given away your own bag," he said suavely, "you have perhaps provided yourself with another, have you not?"

"Why, no, I haven't," said Florence Lloyd. "I have been intending to do so, and shall get one shortly, but I haven't yet selected it."

"And in the meantime you have been getting along without any?"

"A gold-mesh bag is not an indispensable article; I have several bags of other styles, and I'm in no especial haste to purchase a new one."

Miss Lloyd's manner had taken on several degrees of hauteur, and her voice was incisive in its tone. Clearly she resented this discussion of her personal belongings, and as she entirely repudiated the ownership of the bag in the coroner's possession, she was annoyed at his questions.

Mr. Monroe looked at her steadily.

"If this is not your bag, Miss Lloyd," he said, with some asperity, "how did it get on Mr. Crawford's desk late last night? The butler has a.s.sured me it was not there when he looked in at a little after ten o'clock. Yet this morning it lay there, in plain sight on the desk.

Whose bag is it?"

"I have not the slightest idea," said Miss Lloyd firmly; "but, I repeat, it is not mine."

"Easy enough to see the trend of Monroe's questions," said Parmalee in my ear. "If he can prove this bag to be Miss Lloyd's, it shows that she was in the office after ten o'clock last night, and this she has denied."

"Don't you believe her?" said I.

"Indeed I don't. Of course she was there, and of course it's her bag.

She put that pretty maid of hers up to deny it, but any one could see the maid was lying, also."

"Oh, come now, Parmalee, that's too bad! You've no right to say such things!"

"Oh, pshaw! you think the same yourself, only you think it isn't chivalrous to put it into words."

Of course what annoyed me in Parmalee's speech was its inherent truth. I didn't believe Florence Lloyd. Much as I wanted to, I couldn't; for the appearance, manner and words of both women were not such as to inspire belief in their hearers.

If she and Elsa were in collusion to deny her ownership of the bag, it would be hard to prove the contrary, for the men-servants could not be supposed to know, and I had no doubt Mrs. Pierce would testify as Miss Lloyd did on any matter.

I was sorry not to put more confidence in the truth of the testimony I was hearing, but I am, perhaps, sceptical by nature. And, too, if Florence Lloyd were in any way implicated in the death of her uncle, I felt pretty sure she would not hesitate at untruth.

Her marvellous magnetism attracted me strongly, but it did not blind me to the strength of her nature. While I could not, as yet, believe her in any way implicated in the death of her uncle, I was fully convinced she knew more concerning it than she had told and I knew, unless forced to, she would not tell what she desired to keep secret.

My sympathy, of course, was with her, but my duty was plain. As a detective, I must investigate fairly, or give up the case.

At this juncture, I knew the point at issue was the presence of Miss Lloyd in the office last night, and the two yellow rose petals I had picked up on the floor might prove a clue.

At any rate it was my duty to investigate the point, so taking a card from my pocket I wrote upon it: "Find out if Miss Lloyd wore any flowers last evening, and what kind."