Furthermore I decided to probe further into that yellow rose business. I was not at all sure that those petals I found on the floor had anything to do with Miss Lloyd’s roses, but it must be a question possible of settlement, if I went about it in the right way. At any rate, though I had definite work ahead of me, my duty just now was to listen to the forthcoming evidence, though I could not help thinking I could have put questions more to the point than Mr. Monroe did.
Of course the coroner’s inquest was not formally conducted as a trial by jury would be, and so anyone spoke, if he chose, and the coroner seemed really glad when suggestions were offered him.
At this point Philip Crawford rose.
“It is impossible,” he said, “not to see whither these questions are tending. But you are on the wrong tack, Mr. Coroner. No matter how evidence may seem to point toward Florence Lloyd’s association with this crime, it is only seeming. That gold bag might have been hers and it might not. But if she says it isn’t, why, then it isn’t! Notwithstanding the state of affairs between my brother and his niece, there is not the shadow of a possibility that the young woman is implicated in the slightest degree, and the sooner you leave her name out of consideration, and turn your search into other channels, the sooner you will find the real criminal.”
It was not so much the words of Philip Crawford, as the sincere way in which they were spoken, that impressed me. Surely he was right; surely this beautiful girl was neither principal nor accessory in the awful crime which, by a strange coincidence, gave to her her fortune and her lover.
“Mr. Crawford’s right,” said Lemuel Porter. “If this jury allows itself to be misled by a gold purse and two petals of a yellow rose, we are unworthy to sit on this case. Why, Mr. Coroner, the long French windows in the office were open, or, at least, unfastened all through the night. We have that from the butler’s testimony. He didn’t lock them last night; they were found unlocked this morning. Therefore, I hold that an intruder, either man or woman, may have come in during the night, accomplished the fatal deed, and departed without anyone being the wiser. That this intruder was a woman, is evidenced by the bag she left behind her. For, as Mr. Crawford has said, if Miss Lloyd denies the ownership of that bag, it is not hers.”
After all, these declarations were proof, of a sort. If Mr. Porter and Mr. Philip Crawford, who had known Florence Lloyd for years, spoke thus positively of her innocence, it could not be doubted.
And then the voice of Parmalee again sounded in my ears.
“Of course Mr. Porter and Mr. Crawford would stand up for Miss Lloyd; it would be strange if they didn’t. And of course, Mrs. Pierce will do all she can to divert suspicion. But the evidences are against her.”
“They only seem to be,” I corrected. “Until we prove the gold bag and the yellow rose to be hers; there is no evidence against her at all.”
“She also had motive and opportunity. Those two points are of quite as much importance as evidence.”
“She had motive and opportunity,” I agreed, “but they were not exclusive. As Mr. Porter pointed out, the open windows gave opportunity that was worldwide; and as to motive, how are we to know who had or who hadn’t it.”
“You’re right, I suppose. Perhaps I am too positive of Miss Lloyd’s implication in the matter, but I’m quite willing to be convinced to the contrary.”
The remarks of Mr. Parmalee were of course not audible to anyone save myself. But the speeches which had been made by Mr. Crawford and Mr. Porter, and which, strange to say, amounted to an arraignment and a vindication almost in the same breath, had a decided effect upon the assembly.
Mrs. Pierce began to weep silently. Gregory Hall looked startled, as if the mere idea of Miss Lloyd’s implication was a new thought to him. Lawyer Randolph looked considerably disturbed, and I at once suspected that his legal mind would not allow him to place too much dependence on the statements of the girl’s sympathetic friends.
Mr. Hamilton, another of the jurors whom I liked, seemed to be thoughtfully weighing the evidence. He was not so well acquainted with Miss Lloyd as the two men who had just spoken in her behalf, and he made a remark somewhat diffidently.
“I agree,” he said, “with the sentiments just expressed; but I also think that we should endeavor to find some further clues or evidence. Had Mr. Crawford any enemies who would come at night to kill him? Or are there any valuables missing? Could robbery have been the motive?”
“It does not seem so,” replied the coroner. “Nothing is known to be missing. Mr. Crawford’s watch and pocket money were not disturbed.”
“The absence of the weapon is a strange factor in the case,” put in Mr. Orville, apparently desirous of having his voice heard as well as those of the other jurors.
“Yes,” agreed Mr. Monroe; “and yet it is not strange that the criminal carried away with him what might have been a proof of his identity.”
“Does Miss Lloyd own a pistol?” blurted out
