ening of Francis Jeffrey's
fine figure. And that was all.

"Mr. Jeffrey, in the talk you had with your wife on Tuesday morning
was Miss Tuttle's name introduced?"

"It was mentioned; yes, sir."

"With recrimination or any display of passion on the part of your
wife?"

"You would not believe me if I said no," was the unexpected rejoinder.

The coroner, taken aback by this direct attack from one who had
hitherto borne all his innuendoes with apparent patience, lost
countenance for a moment, but, remembering that in his official
capacity he was more than a match for the elegant gentleman, who
under other circumstances would have found it only too easy to put
him to the blush, he observed with dignity:

"Mr. Jeffrey, you are on oath. We certainly have no reason for not
believing you."

Mr. Jeffrey bowed. He was probably sorry for his momentary loss
of self-control, and gravely, but with eyes bent downward, answered
with the abrupt phrase:

"Well, then, I will say no."

The coroner shifted his ground.

"Will you make the same reply when I ask if the like forbearance
was shown toward your wife's name in the conversation you had with
Miss Tuttle immediately afterward?"

A halt in the eagerly looked-for reply; a hesitation, momentary
indeed, but pregnant with nameless suggestions, caused his answer,
when it did come, to lose some of the emphasis he manifestly wished
to put into it.

"Miss Tuttle was Mrs. Jeffrey's half-sister. The bond between them
was strong. Would she would I--be apt to speak of my young wife
with bitterness?"

"That is not an answer to my question, Mr. Jeffrey. I must request
a more positive reply."

Miss Tuttle made a move. The strain on all present was so great we
could but notice it. He noticed it too, for his brows came together
with a quick frown, as he emphatically replied:

"There were no recriminations uttered. Mrs. Jeffrey had displeased
me and I said so, but I did not forget that I was speaking of my
wife and to her sister."

As this was in the highest degree non-committal, the coroner could
be excused for persisting.

"The conversation, then, was about your wife?"

"It was."

"In criticism of her conduct?"

"Yes."

"At the ambassador's ball?"

"Yes."

Mr. Jeffrey was a poor hand at lying. That last "yes" came with
great effort.

The coroner waited, possibly for the echo of this last "yes" to
cease; then he remarked with a coldness which lifted at once