“You knew who it was that had called out so loudly?” asked Mr. Benson.
“No, m’sieu; I heard only the shriek as of one in great disaster. I ran to Miss Van Norman’s room, as that was my first duty.”
“Were you not in attendance upon her?”
“No; she had sent me the message by Miss Dupuy, that I need not attend her when she retired.”
“Did this often occur?”
“Not often; but sometimes when Miss Van Norman sat up late, by herself, she would excuse me at an earlier hour. She was most kind and considerate of everybody.”
“Then when at last you saw Miss Van Norman in the library, what did you do?”
“Mon Dieu! I shrieked! Why not? I was amazed, shocked, but, above all, desolated! It was a cruel scene. I knew not what to do, so, naturally, I shrieked.”
Marie’s French shrug almost convinced her hearers that truly that was the only thing to do on such an occasion.
“And now,” said Coroner Benson, “can you tell us of anything, any incident or any knowledge of your own, that will throw any light on this whole matter?”
Marie’s pretty face took on a strange expression. It was not fear or terror, but a sort of perplexity. She gave a furtive glance at Mr. Carleton and then at Miss Morton, and hesitated.
At last she spoke, slowly:
“If monsieur could perhaps word his question a little differently—with more of a definiteness—”
“Very well; do you know anything of Miss Van Norman’s private affairs that would assist us in discovering who killed her.”
“No, monsieur,” said Marie promptly, and with a look of relief.
“Did Miss Van Norman ever, in the slightest way, express any intention or desire to end her life?”
“Never, monsieur.”
“Do you think she was glad and happy in the knowledge of her fast-approaching wedding-day?”
“I am sure of it;” and Marie’s tone was that of one who well knew whereof she spoke.
“That is all, then, for the present;” and Marie, with another sidelong, curious glance at Miss Morton, resumed her seat.
Kitty French and Molly Gardner were questioned, but they told nothing that would throw any light on the matter. They had heard the cry, and while hastily dressing had heard the general commotion in the house. They had thought it must be a fire, and not until they reached the library did they know what had really happened.
“And then,” said Kitty indignantly, in conclusion of her own recital, “we were not allowed to stay with the others, but were sent to our rooms. So how can we give any evidence?”
It was plain to be seen, Miss French felt herself defrauded of an opportunity that should have been hers, but Miss Gardner was of quite a different mind. She answered in whispered monosyllables the questions put by the coroner, and as she knew no more than Kitty of the whole matter, she was not questioned much.
Robert Fessenden smiled a little at the different attitudes of the two girls. He knew Kitty was eager to hear all the exciting details, while Molly shrank from the whole subject. However, as they were such minor witnesses, the coroner paid little serious attention to them or to their statements.
Miss Morton’s testimony came next. Fessenden regarded her with interest, as, composed and calm, she waited the coroner’s interrogations.
She was deliberate and careful in making her replies, and it seemed to the young detective as if she knew nothing whatever about the whole affair, but was trying to imply that she knew a great deal.
“You went to your room when the others did, at about ten o’clock?” asked Mr. Benson.
“Yes, but I did not retire at once.”
“Did you hear any sounds that caused you alarm?”
“No, not alarm. Curiosity, perhaps, but that is surely pardonable to a naturally timid woman in a strange house.”
“Then you did hear sounds. Can you describe them?”
“I do not think they were other than those made by the servants attending to their duties. But the putting on of coal or the fastening of windows are noticeable sounds when one is not accustomed to them.”
“You could discern, then, that it was the shovelling of coal or the fastening of windows that you heard?”
“No, I could not. My hearing is extremely acute, but as my room is on the third floor, all the sounds I heard were faint and muffled.”
“Did you hear Mr. Carleton’s cry for help?”
“I did, but at that distance it did not sound loud. However, I was sufficiently alarmed to open my door and step out into the hall. I had not taken off my evening gown, and, seeing bright lights downstairs, of course I immediately went down. The household was nearly all assembled when I reached the library. I saw at once what had happened, and I saw, too, that Mrs. Markham and the younger women were quite frantic with fright and excitement. I thought it my duty therefore to take up the reins of government, and I took the liberty of telephoning for the doctor. I think there is nothing more of importance that I can tell you.”
At this Fessenden barely repressed a smile, for he could not see that Miss Morton had told anything of importance at all.
“I would like,” said Mr. Benson, “for you to inform us as to your relations with the Van Norman household. Have you been long acquainted with Miss Van Norman?”
“About two years,” replied Miss Morton, with a snapping together of her teeth, which was one of her many peculiarities of manner.
“And how did the acquaintance come about?”
“Her uncle and I were friends many years ago,” said Miss Morton. “I knew Richard Van Norman before Madeleine was born. We quarrelled, and I never saw him again. After his death Madeleine wrote to me, and several letters passed between us. At her invitation I made a short visit here about
