table, where she had last sat, stood Coroner Benson.
The women were seated in front. Mrs. Markham seemed to have settled into a sort of sad apathy, but Miss Morton was briskly alert and, though evidently nervous, seemed eager to hear what the coroner had to tell.
Kitty French, too, was full of anxious interest, and, taking the seat assigned to her, clasped her little hands in breathless suspense, while a high color rose to her lovely cheeks.
Molly Gardner was pale and wan-looking. She dreaded the whole scene, and had but one desire, to get away from Mapleton. She could have gone to her room, had she chosen, but the idea of being all alone was even worse than the present conditions. So she sat, with overwrought nerves, now and then clutching at Kittyâs sleeve.
Cicely Dupuy was very calmâso calm, indeed, that one might guess it was the composure of an all-compelling determination, and by no means the quiet of indifference.
Marie was there, and showed the impassive face of the well-trained servant, though her volatile French nature was discernible in her quick-darting glances and quivering, sensitive lips.
The two doctors, Mr. Carleton, Tom Willard, and young Fessenden occupied the next row of seats, and behind them were the house servants.
Unlike the women, the men showed little or no emotion on their faces. All were grave and composed, and even Doctor Leonard seemed to have laid aside his brusque and aggressive ways.
As he stood facing this group, Coroner Benson was fully alive to the importance of his own position, and he quite consciously determined to conduct the proceedings in a way to throw great credit upon himself in his official capacity.
After an impressive pause, which he seemed to deem necessary to gain the attention of an already breathlessly listening audience, he began:
âWhile there is much evidence that seems to prove that Miss Van Norman took her own life, there is very grave reason to doubt this. Both of the eminent physicians here present are inclined to believe that the dagger thrust which killed Miss Van Norman was not inflicted by her own hand, though it may have been so. This conclusion they arrive at from their scientific knowledge of the nature and direction of dagger strokes, which, as may not be generally known, is a science in itself. Indeed, were it not for the conclusive evidence of the written paper, these gentlemen would believe that the stroke was impossible of self-infliction.
âBut, aside from this point, we are confronted by this startling fact. Although the dagger, which you may see still lying on the table, has several blood-stains on its handle, there is absolutely no trace of blood on the right hand of the body of Miss Van Norman. It is inconceivable that she could have removed such a trace, had there been any, and it is highly improbable, if not indeed impossible, that she could have handled the dagger and left it in its present condition, without showing a corresponding stain on her hand.â
This speech of Coroner Bensonâs produced a decided sensation on all his hearers, but it was manifested in various ways. Kitty French exchanged with Fessenden a satisfied nod, for this seemed in line with her own theory.
Fessenden returned the nod, and even gave Kitty a faint smile, for who could look at that lovely face without a pleasant recognition of some sort? And then he folded his arms and began to think hard. Yet there was little food for coherent thought.
Granting the logical deduction from the absence of any stain on Miss Van Normanâs hands, there was, as yet, not the slightest indication of any direction in which to look for the dastard who had done the deed.
Schuyler Carleton showed no emotion, but his white face seemed to take on one more degree of horror and misery. Tom Willard looked blankly amazed, and Mrs. Markham began on a new one of her successive crying spells. Miss Morton sat bolt upright and placidly smoothed the gray silk folds of
The women were seated in front. Mrs. Markham seemed to have settled into a sort of sad apathy, but Miss Morton was briskly alert and, though evidently nervous, seemed eager to hear what the coroner had to tell.
Kitty French, too, was full of anxious interest, and, taking the seat assigned to her, clasped her little hands in breathless suspense, while a high color rose to her lovely cheeks.
Molly Gardner was pale and wan-looking. She dreaded the whole scene, and had but one desire, to get away from Mapleton. She could have gone to her room, had she chosen, but the idea of being all alone was even worse than the present conditions. So she sat, with overwrought nerves, now and then clutching at Kittyâs sleeve.
Cicely Dupuy was very calmâso calm, indeed, that one might guess it was the composure of an all-compelling determination, and by no means the quiet of indifference.
Marie was there, and showed the impassive face of the well-trained servant, though her volatile French nature was discernible in her quick-darting glances and quivering, sensitive lips.
The two doctors, Mr. Carleton, Tom Willard, and young Fessenden occupied the next row of seats, and behind them were the house servants.
Unlike the women, the men showed little or no emotion on their faces. All were grave and composed, and even Doctor Leonard seemed to have laid aside his brusque and aggressive ways.
As he stood facing this group, Coroner Benson was fully alive to the importance of his own position, and he quite consciously determined to conduct the proceedings in a way to throw great credit upon himself in his official capacity.
After an impressive pause, which he seemed to deem necessary to gain the attention of an already breathlessly listening audience, he began:
âWhile there is much evidence that seems to prove that Miss Van Norman took her own life, there is very grave reason to doubt this. Both of the eminent physicians here present are inclined to believe that the dagger thrust which killed Miss Van Norman was not inflicted by her own hand, though it may have been so. This conclusion they arrive at from their scientific knowledge of the nature and direction of dagger strokes, which, as may not be generally known, is a science in itself. Indeed, were it not for the conclusive evidence of the written paper, these gentlemen would believe that the stroke was impossible of self-infliction.
âBut, aside from this point, we are confronted by this startling fact. Although the dagger, which you may see still lying on the table, has several blood-stains on its handle, there is absolutely no trace of blood on the right hand of the body of Miss Van Norman. It is inconceivable that she could have removed such a trace, had there been any, and it is highly improbable, if not indeed impossible, that she could have handled the dagger and left it in its present condition, without showing a corresponding stain on her hand.â
This speech of Coroner Bensonâs produced a decided sensation on all his hearers, but it was manifested in various ways. Kitty French exchanged with Fessenden a satisfied nod, for this seemed in line with her own theory.
Fessenden returned the nod, and even gave Kitty a faint smile, for who could look at that lovely face without a pleasant recognition of some sort? And then he folded his arms and began to think hard. Yet there was little food for coherent thought.
Granting the logical deduction from the absence of any stain on Miss Van Normanâs hands, there was, as yet, not the slightest indication of any direction in which to look for the dastard who had done the deed.
Schuyler Carleton showed no emotion, but his white face seemed to take on one more degree of horror and misery. Tom Willard looked blankly amazed, and Mrs. Markham began on a new one of her successive crying spells. Miss Morton sat bolt upright and placidly smoothed the gray silk folds of
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