found in the bed, not under the pillow, but beside the body of the dead man, we think it seems to indicate at least a possibility that it was dropped there by the murderer as he leaned over his victim."
This came so near to being a direct accusation, that I fully expected Leroy to exclaim with anger. But instead, though his face grew even whiter than before, he said very quietly: "Am I to understand that as an implication that I may be guilty of this crime?"
Though uttered in low even tones, the words expressed horror at the thought.
"You are to understand," replied Mr. Buckner, "that we ask you for a frank and honest explanation of how your key, or rather your client's key, happened to be where it was found."
"I cannot explain it," said Leroy, and now he had entirely controlled his agitation, and his face was like an impassive marble mask.
"You cannot or you will not?"
"I cannot. I have not the remotest idea where I lost that key, but by no possibility could I have lost it in Mr. Pembroke's bedroom, because I was not there."
"When were you last in Mr. Pembroke's room?"
"I was there Tuesday evening, and I may possibly have dropped the key there then."
"But you said you remembered having it Wednesday morning."
"I might be mistaken about that; perhaps it was Tuesday morning that I positively remember having it."
Clearly Leroy was floundering. His words were hesitating, and though it was evident that his brain was working quickly, I felt sure he was trying to conceal his thoughts, and not express them.
"Supposing then that you may have dropped this key in Mr. Pembroke's bedroom when you were calling on him Tuesday evening, you would not be likely to have dropped it in the bed, would you?"
"Certainly not. I saw Mr. Pembroke in his room only a few moments, after having already made a longer call in the drawing-room."
The involuntary glance which Leroy shot at Janet and the color which flamed suddenly in the girl's face, left me in no doubt as to the purport of the call he had made in the drawing-room on Tuesday evening. I knew as well as if I had been told, that he had been asking Janet to marry him; I knew that his interview with Mr. Pembroke afterward had probably related to the same subject; and though I was glad that his suit had not been successful, yet I felt jealous of the whole episode. However, I had no time then to indulge in thoughts of romance, for the District Attorney was mercilessly pinning Leroy down to an exact account of himself.
"Had the bed been turned down for the night, when you were in Mr. Pembroke's room on Tuesday evening?"
"I didn't notice especially, but I have an indistinct impression that the covers had been turned back."
"In that case it would have been possible for you to drop the key in the bed without knowing it, but very far from probable. Did you lean over the bed for any purpose?"
"No; of course I did not. But perhaps if I did drop the key in the room, and Mr. Pembroke found it, knowing it to be a valuable key, he may have put it under his pillow, for safety's sake."
"That again is possible; but improbable that he would have done it two nights, both Tuesday and Wednesday nights! Moreover, Mr. Leroy, you said at first that you were sure you had the key Wednesday morning. And not until you inferred that you were suspected of implication in this affair, did you say that it might have been Tuesday morning you had it. Now, can you not speak positively on that point?"
Leroy hesitated. Though his face rarely showed what was passing in his mind, yet though at this moment no one who saw him could doubt that the man was going through a fearful mental struggle. Indeed, he sat silent for so long, that I began to wonder whether he intended to answer the question or not. Lines formed across his brow and his stern lips fastened themselves in a straight line. He looked first at Janet and then at George, with a piercing gaze. Finally he shook his head with a sudden quick gesture, as if flinging off a temptation to prevaricate, which was almost too strong to be resisted.
"I can speak positively," he said, and the words seemed to be fairly forced from him. "I had that key last to my knowledge on Wednesday morning, when I made use of it at the Sterling Safety Deposit Company."
Chapter XVII.
Can Leroy Be Guilty?
It was as if a bomb had burst. We all sat appalled, for at the first thought it seemed as if this admission proclaimed Graham Leroy a guilty man. The picture flashed into my mind. This strong man, capable I felt sure, of the whole range of elemental passions, killing, for some reason unknown to me, his client, who was equally capable of rage and angry passion. I seemed to see him bending over his victim, and inadvertently dropping the tell-tale key from his pocket. But I think it was an effect of the dramatic situation that conjured up this picture in my mind, for it was immediately dispelled as Janet's voice broke on the tense silence.
"I cannot fail to see the trend of your implications, Mr. Buckner," she said, and her tones were haughty, and even supercilious; "I suppose you are daring to insinuate that Mr. Leroy might have been in my uncle's room on Wednesday night, late. But let me remind you that I myself put the chain on the door at eleven o'clock, after which it was impossible for Mr. Leroy to enter."
The old argument: "How could he get in?"
And though this argument seemed to turn suspicion toward Janet, it did not in the least do so to my mind.
Of course, I had no answer to the question, but that did not change my conviction that Janet was innocent. Could Leroy be guilty? I didn't know, and I didn't much care, if only suspicion could be turned away from Janet!
It was by an effort that I brought my attention back to the conversation going on.
"Will you tell me, Mr. Leroy, where you were on Wednesday night?" went on the District Attorney, making no recognition of Janet's speech beyond a slight bow in her direction.
"I went to Utica," answered Leroy.
"At what time?"
Again there was a lengthy interval of silence, and then Leroy said, in a low voice, "Rather late in the evening."
"On what train?"
"On a late train."
"The midnight train?"
"Yes;" the answer was fairly blurted out as if in utter exasperation.
Although the rest of his hearers started at the realization of all that this implied, Mr. Buckner proceeded quietly. "Where were you between eleven and twelve o'clock, on Wednesday night?"
"I refuse to say."
"I think I must insist upon an answer, Mr. Leroy. Were you at the station long before train time?"
"No."
"You reached the station then but a short time before the train left?"
"That is right."
"Did you go directly from your home to the station?"
"Perhaps not directly, but I made no stop on the way."
"What did you do then, since you say you did not go directly?"
"I walked about the streets."
"Why did you do this?"
"Partly for the exercise, and partly because I preferred not to reach the station until about time for my train to leave."
"And did your walking about the streets bring you anywhere near this locality?"
"That I refuse to answer."
"But you must answer, Mr. Leroy."
"Not