looked casually at Fessenden as he said this, and though there was no question in the glance, Rob nodded his head in corroboration of the witness.
"You spent the entire evening at home, then?"
"Yes, until a late hour."
"And then?"
"I returned here between eleven and twelve o'clock."
"To make a call?"
"No, I came upon an errand."
"What was the errand?"
"As it has no bearing upon the case, I think it is my privilege to decline to answer."
"You entered the house with a latch-key."
"I did."
"Is that latch-key your own property?"
"For the time, yes. Mrs. Markham gave it to me a few days ago, for my convenience, because I have occasion to come to the house so frequently."
"Was it your intention when you went away in the afternoon to return later?"
"It was."
"Upon this secret errand?"
"Yes."
"Did you expect to see Miss Van Norman when you entered the house with the latch-key?"
"I did not."
"And when you entered you discovered the tragedy in the library?"
Schuyler Carleton hesitated. His dry lips quivered and his whole frame shook with intense emotion. "Y-yes," he stammered.
But the mere fact of that hesitation instantly kindled a spark of suspicion in the minds of some of his hearers. Until that moment Carleton's excessive agitation had been attributed entirely to his grief at the awful fate which had come to his fiancée; but now, all at once, the man's demeanor gave an impression of something else.
Could it be guilt?
Fessenden looked at his friend curiously. In his mind, however, no slightest suspicion was aroused, but he wondered what it was that Carleton was keeping back. Surely the man must know that to make any mystery about his call at the Van Norman mansion the night before, was to invite immediate and justifiable suspicion.
The court had instructed the district attorney to be present at the inquest, and though that unobtrusive gentleman had taken notes, and otherwise shown a quiet interest in the proceedings, he now awakened to a more alert manner, and leaned forward to get a better look at the white, set face of the witness.
Carleton looked like a marble image. His refined, patrician features seemed even handsomer for their haggard agony. Surely he was in no way responsible for the awful deed that had been done, and yet just as surely he was possessed of some awful secret fear which kept every nerve strained and tense.
Endeavoring not to exhibit the surprise and dismay which he felt, Coroner Benson continued his questions.
"And then, when you discovered Miss Van Norman, what did you do?"
Carleton passed his hand across his white brow. "I hardly know," he said. "I was stunned—dazed. I went toward her, and, seeing the dagger on the floor, I picked it up mechanically, scarcely knowing what I did. I felt intuitively that the girl was dead, but I did not touch her, and, not knowing what else to do, I cried out for help."
"And turned on the lights?"
"I pushed several electric buttons, not knowing which were lights and which bells; my principal idea was to arouse the inmates of the house at once."
"Who first appeared in answer to your call?"
"Miss Dupuy came running downstairs at once, followed by Miss Van Norman's maid."
"And then you pointed to the paper that lay on the table near Miss Van Norman's hand."
"Yes; I could not speak, and I thought that would tell Miss Dupuy that Miss Van Norman had taken her own life."
"You thought, then, that Miss Van Norman wrote the message?"
"I thought so then—and I think so now."
This, of course, produced a sensation, but it was only evidenced by a deeper silence on the part of the startled audience.
"But Miss Dupuy asserts that she wrote it," said the coroner.
To this Schuyler Carleton merely gave a slight bow of his handsome head, but it said as plainly as words that his belief was not altered by Miss Dupuy's assertion.
"Granting for the moment, then," went on Mr. Benson, "that Miss Van Norman did write it, is the message intelligible to you?"
"Intelligible, yes;" said Carleton, "but, as I have said before, inexplicable."
This ambiguous speech meant little to most of the listeners, but it seemed to give Robert Fessenden food for thought, and he looked at Carleton with a new wonder in his eyes.
"Mr. Carleton," said the coroner, with a note of gravity in his voice, "I think it my duty to tell you that your own interests require you to state the nature of your errand to this house last night."
"I decline to do so."
"Then, will you state as exactly as you can the hour at which you entered the front door?"
"I don't know precisely. But Miss Dupuy has testified that she came downstairs in response to my call at half-past eleven. I came into the house a—a few moments before."
"That is all," said the coroner abruptly. "Mr. Hunt, if you please."
The man from headquarters, who had guarded the present room through the night, came in from the doorway where he had been standing.
"Will you tell what you know concerning Mr. Carleton's entrance last night?" said the coroner, briefly.
"I was on guard in the present room from nine o'clock on," said Mr. Hunt. "Of course I was on the watch-out for anything unusual, and alert to hear any sound. I heard the company go away at ten o'clock, I heard most of the people in the house go to their rooms right after that. I heard and I also saw Miss Dupuy go down to the library after that, and return to her room about half-past ten. I noticed all these things because that is my business, but they made no special impression on me, as they were but the natural proceedings of the people who belonged here. Of course I was only on the lookout for intruders. I heard the sound of a latch-key and I heard the front door open at exactly quarter after eleven. I stepped out into the hall, and, looking downstairs, I saw Mr. Carleton enter. I also saw Miss Dupuy in the upper hall looking over the banister. She, too, must have seen Mr. Carleton. But as all of this was none of my business, and as nobody had entered who hadn't a right to, I simply returned to my post. At half-past eleven I heard Mr. Carleton's cry, and saw the lights go up all over the house. Anything more, sir?"
"Not at present, Mr. Hunt. Miss Dupuy, did you hear Mr. Carleton come in?"
Cicely Dupuy turned an angry face toward Mr. Hunt and fairly glared at the mild-mannered man. She waited a moment before answering the coroner's question, and then as if with a sudden resolve she spoke a sharp, quick "Yes."
"And that was at quarter after eleven?"
"It was later," declared Cicely. "For Mr. Carleton told you himself that he went directly into the library as soon as he came into the house, and as I heard his cry at half-past eleven he must have entered only a few moments before."
Schuyler Carleton stared at Cicely, and she returned his gaze.
His face was absolutely inscrutable, a pallid mask, that might have concealed emotion of any sort. But there was a suggestion of fear in the strange eyes, as they gazed at Cicely, and though it was quickly suppressed it had been noted by those most interested.
The girl looked straight at him, with determination written in every line of her face. It was quite evident to the onlookers that a mental message was passing between these two.
"You are