an' bimeby he come."
"That will do," said Mr. Ross. "From that time on, we have had the history of events. But to go back to last night. Were you in the house last evening?"
"Yes, sah; dat is, I was, after nine o'clock. I went out befo' dat, but I come in sharp at nine, as Miss Janet had tole me to."
"There were no guests here when you returned?"
"No sah; no comp'ny. Miss Janet and her uncle—dey sat in de drawin' room, conversationin'."
The way Charlotte's eyes rolled about, and the quizzical look on her face, gave a distinct hint as to the nature of the conversation.
"Was the conversation of a pleasant sort?" the Coroner could not refrain from saying.
"Laws, no, sah! Marse Pembroke, he nebber conversed pleasantly, sah. He jes' nachelly scold Miss Janet always. Sometimes wusser dan odders,—but always scoldin'."
"What was he scolding her about?"
"I dunno. I jes' walked by de do', but I 'spect,——" Here Charlotte rolled her eyes toward Miss Pembroke, and the expression on that young lady's face, was so unmistakably a desire for Charlotte to cease her revelations, that I was not surprised at the colored woman's obedience to it.
"Go on," said Mr. Ross, "what do you suspect?"
"Nuffin, sah! nuffin 'tall."
"But you were about to say something?"
Again Charlotte rolled her eyes toward Miss Pembroke, and again the girl gave her a look which as plainly as words, forbade her to continue.
"Oh, laws," said Charlotte, easily, "den I 'spect old Marse Pembroke wuz jes' blowin' her up kase de bills wuz so big. He always said de bills wuz 'normous, even if dey wuz as small as anything. Dey wasn't no pleasin' dat man, no how."
Mr. Ross abandoned this line of query and began a fresh subject.
"Sit here," he said to Charlotte, indicating a seat where she could not see Miss Pembroke, who was directly behind her. "Now," he went on, "remember you are under oath to tell the truth, and see that you do it! Did you hear Mr. Pembroke or Miss Pembroke make any reference to a large sum of money?"
Charlotte said nothing. She twisted and turned in an endeavor to look round at Miss Pembroke, but the Coroner sternly ordered her to sit still and to answer the question. He added some remarks of a warning nature about punishment for untruthfulness, which so worked upon her half-ignorant mind that Charlotte became greatly agitated.
"Mus' I tell de trufe to you-all?" she gasped, in a stage whisper.
"Yes, and quickly," commanded Mr. Ross.
"Well, den, Miss Janet, she did ask Mr. Pembroke for a lot o' money."
"And he refused her?"
"Well, sah, he 'llowed as he'd gib it to her, ef she'd marry dat Leroy man."
At this point George Lawrence interposed.
"I cannot think it necessary," he said, "to allow the exposure of these personal matters, and especially through the medium of an ignorant servant."
I quite agreed with the speaker, and I admired the manly, dignified manner which accompanied his words. It seemed to me distinctly mean and petty to wrest these intimate revelations from the colored woman.
"In a case like this, Mr. Lawrence," the Coroner replied, "the law is justified in getting evidence from any reliable source. And I am convinced that this woman is telling us the truth."
"But truths that are irrelevant to the matter in hand," declared Lawrence. "Your investigation, I take it, is for the purpose of discovering the murderer of Mr. Robert Pembroke; and it surely cannot aid you to pry into the personal affairs of Miss Pembroke."
"It is quite possible," said the Coroner, coldly, "that Miss Pembroke's personal affairs may have some bearing on our quest. However I agree with you, to this extent. I think it will be preferable not to learn of these matters through the testimony of a menial. I think I should prefer to learn the truth from Miss Pembroke herself. Miss Pembroke, will you now give your evidence?"
Doctor Masterson's expression had grown even more worried than before. He seemed to me to look positively alarmed, and I wondered what it was that troubled him so.
Miss Pembroke, on the contrary, was absolutely composed, and had again assumed that air of hauteur which I had sometimes noticed on her face when I had met her before I was privileged to speak to her, but which had been utterly absent since her uncle's death.
The coroner looked at her, not unkindly, but with an air of coldness which quite matched her own.
"Your name?" he said briefly.
"Janet Pembroke."
"Your relation to the deceased?"
"That of great-niece. Robert Pembroke was my grandfather's brother."
"You lived with him?"
"I have lived with him since I was sixteen."
"Was he kind to you?"
"No."
This was said without a trace of anger or resentment, but merely in the tones of one stating a simple fact.
"Why was he not kind to you?"
"I know of no reason, save that he was not of a kindly disposition. He had a dreadful and ungovernable temper, which was doubtless due in part, at least, to the fact that he suffered greatly from gout."
"Was he—was he cruel to you?"
"Yes."
"Did he ever offer you personal violence?"
"He has struck me several times."
My blood boiled at these revelations. To think of that exquisite creature at the mercy of an angry brute!
"Why did you not leave him?"
"I had no other home, and, too, he needed me to look after him."
"He could afford to hire caretakers."
"Yes, but he was my only living relative, except my cousin, Mr. Lawrence, and I felt that I owed him care and attention in return for what he had always done for me. Besides, it was difficult for him to keep servants of any sort. They always left after a few of his violent exhibitions of temper."
"Was he liberal with you in money matters?"
"He was not."
"Do you refer to money for household expenses or for your personal use?"
"To both."
"Do you know the contents of your uncle's will?"
"I do."
"You know, then, that by his death you will inherit a large sum of money?"
"Yes."
This conversation was listened to intently by all present, and it seemed to me that at this point the coroner's face took on an even harder and colder look than it had had before. I wondered why he seemed so devoid of sympathy or even of common humanity as his metallic voice rang out the questions.
"You heard the testimony of Charlotte, your servant?"
"Yes."
"You corroborate it?"
"I do, so far as it concerns my actions."
"Then you saw your uncle first this morning, when Charlotte called you to his room?"
"Yes."
"And you thought him ill?"
"I feared he was dead, he looked so white and still. But I thought it might be a paralytic stroke, or something that would cause an appearance similar to that of death."
"Did you touch