o my mind," I put in, "detective divination is merely minute
observation. But why do we quibble over words and definitions when there
is much work to be done? When is the formal inquest to be held, Mr.
Monroe?"

"This afternoon at two o'clock," he replied.

"Then I'll go away now," I said, "for I must find an abiding place for
myself in West Sedgwick. There is an inn, I suppose."

"They'll probably ask you to stay here," observed Coroner Monroe, "but
I advise you not to do so. I think you'll be freer and less hampered in
your work if you go to the inn."

"I quite agree with you," I replied. "But I see little chance of being
invited to stay here. Where is the family? Who are in it?"

"Not many. There is Miss Florence Lloyd, a niece of Mr. Crawford. That
is, she is the niece of his wife. Mrs. Crawford has been dead many
years, and Miss Lloyd has kept house for her uncle all that time. Then
there is Mrs. Pierce, an elderly lady and a distant relative of Mr.
Crawford's. That is all, except the secretary, Gregory Hall, who lives
here much of the time. That is, he has a room here, but often he is in
New York or elsewhere on Mr. Crawford's business."

"Mr. Crawford had an office both here and in New York?" I asked.

"Yes; and of late years he has stayed at home as much as possible.
He went to New York only about three or four days in the week, and
conducted his business from here the rest of the time. Young Hall is a
clever fellow, and has been Mr. Crawford's righthand man for years."

"Where is he now?"

"We think he's in New York, but haven't yet been able to locate him
at Mr. Crawford's office there, or at his club. He is engaged to Miss
Lloyd, though I understand that the engagement is contrary to Mr.
Crawford's wishes."

"And where is Miss Lloyd,--and Mrs. Pierce?"

"They are both in their rooms. Mrs. Pierce is prostrated at the tragedy,
and Miss Lloyd simply refuses to make her appearance."

"But she'll have to attend the inquest?"

"Oh, yes, of course. She'll be with us then. I think I won't say
anything about her to you, as I'd rather you'd see her first with
entirely unprejudiced eyes."

"So you, too, think Miss Lloyd is implicated?"

"I don't think anything about it, Mr. Burroughs. As coroner it is not my
place to think along such lines."

"Well, everybody else thinks so," broke in Parmalee. "And why? Because
there's no one else for suspicion to light on. No one else who by any
possibility could h