d, 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 embarrassment 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