ly.

The coroner did not press it further.

It had now become evident to all, that Eleanore Leavenworth not only
stood on her defence, but was perfectly aware of her position, and
prepared to maintain it. Even her cousin, who until now had preserved
some sort of composure, began to show signs of strong and uncontrollable
agitation, as if she found it one thing to utter an accusation herself,
and quite another to see it mirrored in the countenances of the men
about her.

"Miss Leavenworth," the coroner continued, changing the line of attack,
"you have always had free access to your uncle's apartments, have you
not?"

"Yes, sir."

"Might even have entered his room late at night, crossed it and stood at
his side, without disturbing him sufficiently to cause him to turn his
head?"

"Yes," her hands pressing themselves painfully together.

"Miss Leavenworth, the key to the library door is missing."

She made no answer.

"It has been testified to, that previous to the actual discovery of the
murder, you visited the door of the library alone. Will you tell us if
the key was then in the lock?"

"It was not."

"Are you certain?"

"I am."

"Now, was there anything peculiar about this key, either in size or
shape?"

She strove to repress the sudden terror which this question produced,
glanced carelessly around at the group of servants stationed at her
back, and trembled. "It was a little different from the others," she
finally acknowledged.

"In what respect?"

"The handle was broken."

"Ah, gentlemen, the handle was broken!" emphasized the coroner, looking
towards the jury.

Mr. Gryce seemed to take this information to himself, for he gave
another of his quick nods.

"You would, then, recognize this key, Miss Leavenworth, if you should
see it?"

She cast a startled look at him, as if she expected to behold it in his
hand; but, seeming to gather courage at not finding it produced, replied
quite easily:

"I think I should, sir."

The coroner seemed satisfied, and was about to dismiss the witness when
Mr. Gryce quietly advanced and touched him on the arm. "One moment,"
said that gentleman, and stooping, he whispered a few words in the
coroner's ear; then, recovering himself, stood with his right hand in
his breast pocket and his eye upon the chandelier.

I scarcely dared to breathe. Had he repeated to the coroner the words
he had inadvertently overheard in the hall above? But a glance at
the latte