you were seen to do it."
"By whom?"
"By a disinterested and credible witness."
"By a sly, spying French servant!"
"It matters not by whom; you are asked to explain the act of burning that paper."
"I have nothing to explain. I deny it."
And try as he would Mr. Benson could not prevail upon Miss Morton to admit that she had burned a paper.
He confronted her with the witness, Marie, but Miss Morton coldly refused to listen to her, or to pay any attention to what she said. She insisted that Marie was not speaking the truth, and as the matter rested between the two, there was nothing more to be done.
Kitty French said that she saw Miss Morton go into Madeleine's room, and afterward go upstairs to her own room, but she knew nothing about the papers in question.
Still adhering to her denial of Marie's story, Miss Morton was excused from the witness stand.
Another witness called was Dorothy Burt. Fessenden was sorry that this had to be, for he dreaded to have the fact of Carleton's infatuation for this girl brought into public notice.
Miss Burt was a model witness, as to her manner and demeanor. She answered promptly and clearly all the coroner's questions, and at first Rob thought that perhaps she was, after all, the innocent child that Carleton thought her.
But he couldn't help realizing, as the cross-questioning went on, that Miss Burt really gave very little information of any value. Perhaps because she had none to give, perhaps because she chose to withhold it.
"Your name?" Mr. Benson had first asked.
"Dorothy Burt," was the answer, and the modest voice, with a touch of sadness, as befitting the occasion, seemed to have just the right ring to it.
"Your occupation?"
"I am companion and social secretary to Mrs. Carleton."
"Do you know of anything that can throw any light on any part of the mystery surrounding the death of Miss Van Norman?"
Miss Burt drew her pretty eyebrows slightly together, and thought a moment.
"No," she said quietly; "I am sure I do not."
So gentle and sweet was she, that many a questioner would have dismissed her then and there; but Mr. Benson, hoping to get at least a shred of evidence bearing on Schuyler Carleton's strange behavior, continued to question her.
"Tell us, please, Miss Burt, what you know of Mr. Carleton's actions on the night of Miss Van Norman's death."
"Mr. Carleton's actions?" The delicate eyebrows lifted as if in perplexity at the question.
"Yes; detail his actions, so far as you know them, from the time he came home to dinner that evening."
"Why, let me see;" pretty Dorothy looked thoughtful again. "He came to dinner, as usual. Mr. Fessenden was there, but no other guest. After dinner we all sat in the music room. I played a little,—just some snatches of certain music that Mrs. Carleton is fond of. Mr. Carleton and Mr. Fessenden chatted together."
Rob raised his own eyebrows a trifle at this. Carleton had not been at all chatty; indeed, Fessenden and Mrs. Carleton had sustained the burden of the conversation; and while Miss Burt had played, it had been bits of romantic music that Rob felt sure had been for Schuyler's delectation more than his mother's.
"Is that all?" said Mr. Benson.
"Yes, I think so," said Miss Burt; "we all went to our rooms early, as the next day was the day appointed for Mr. Carleton's wedding, and we assumed he wanted to be alone."
Rob looked up astounded. Was she going to make no mention of the stroll in the rose-garden? He almost hoped she wouldn't, and yet that was certainly the evidence Mr. Benson was after.
"You said good-night to Mr. Carleton at what time, then?" was the next rather peculiar question.
It might have been imagination, but Fessenden thought the girl was going to name an earlier hour, then, catching sight of Rob's steady eyes upon her, she hesitated an instant, and then said: "About ten o'clock, I think."
"Mrs. Carleton and Mr. Fessenden went to their rooms at the same time?"
Dorothy Burt turned very pale. She shot a quick glance at Schuyler Carleton and another at Fessenden, and then said in a low tone: "They had gone upstairs a short time before."
"And you remained downstairs for a time with Mr. Carleton?"
"Yes." The answer, merely a whisper, seemed forced upon her lips.
"Where were you?"
Again the hesitation. Again the swift glances at Carleton and Rob, and then the low answer:
"In the rose-garden."
Fessenden understood. The girl had no desire to tell these things, but she knew that he knew the truth, and so she was too clever to lie uselessly.
"How long were you two in the rose-garden, Miss Burt?"
Another pause. Somehow, Fessenden seemed to see the workings of the girl's mind. If she designated a long time it would seem important. If too short a time, Rob would know of her inaccuracy. And if she said she didn't know, it would lend a meaning to the rose-garden interview which it were better to avoid.
"Perhaps a half-hour," she said, at last, and, though outwardly calm, her quickly-drawn breath and shining eyes betokened a suppressed excitement of some sort.
"And you left Mr. Carleton at ten o'clock?"
"Yes."
"Do you know what he did after that?"
"I do not!" the answer rang out clearly, as if Miss Burt were glad to be well past the danger point of the dialogue. But it came back at her with the next question.
"What was the tenor of your conversation with Mr. Carleton in the rose garden?"
At this Dorothy Burt's calm gave way. She trembled, her red lower lip quivered, and her eyelids fluttered, almost as if she were about to faint.
But, by a quick gesture, she straightened herself up, and, looking her interlocutor in the eyes said:
"I trust I am not obliged to answer that very personal question."
Like a flash it came to Fessenden that her perturbation had been merely a clever piece of acting. She had trembled and seemed greatly distressed in order that Mr. Benson's sympathy might be so aroused that he would not press the question.
And indeed it required a hardened heart to insist on an answer from the lovely, agitated girl.
But Mr. Benson was not so susceptible as some younger men, and, moreover, he was experienced in the ways of witnesses.
"I am sorry to be so personal, Miss Burt," he said firmly; "but I fear it is necessary for us to learn the purport of your talk with Mr. Carleton at that time."
Dorothy Burt looked straight at Schuyler Carleton.
Neither gave what might be called a gesture, and yet a message and a response flashed between the two.
Rob Fessenden, watching intently, translated it to mean a simple negative on Schuyler's part, but the question in the girl's eyes he could not read.
Carleton's "No," however, was as plain as if spoken, and, apparently comprehending, Miss Burt went evenly on.
"We talked," she said, "on such subjects as might be expected on the eve of a man's wedding-day. We discussed the probability of pleasant weather, mention was made of Miss Van Norman and her magnificent personality. The loneliness of Mrs. Carleton after her son's departure was touched upon, and, while I cannot remember definitely, I think our whole talk was on those or kindred topics."
"Why did you so hesitate a moment ago, when I asked you to tell this?"
Dorothy