It was by the merest chance that I was looking at Gregory Hall, as the lawyer gave this answer.
It required no fine perception to understand the look of relief and delight that fairly flooded his countenance. To be sure, it was quickly suppressed, and his former mask of indifference and preoccupation assumed, but I knew as well as if he had put it into words, that he had trembled lest Miss Lloyd had been disinherited before her uncle had met his death in the night.
This gave me many new thoughts, but before I could formulate them, I heard the coroner going an with his questions.
"Did Mr. Crawford visit you last evening?"
"Yes; he was at my house for perhaps half an hour or mare between eight and nine o'clock."
"Did he refer to the subject of changing his will?"
"He did. That was his errand. He distinctly stated his intention of making a new will, and asked me to come to his office this morning and draw up the instrument."
"But as that cannot now be done, the will in favor of Miss Lloyd still stands?"
"It does," said Mr. Randolph, "and I am glad of it. Miss Lloyd has been brought up to look upon this inheritance as her own, and while I would have used no undue emphasis, I should have tried to dissuade Mr. Crawford from changing his will."
"But before we consider the fortune or the will, we must proceed with our task of bringing to light the murderer, and avenging Mr.
Crawford's death."
"I trust you will do so, Mr. Coroner, and that speedily. But I may say, if allowable, that you are on the wrong track when you allow your suspicions to tend towards Florence Lloyd."
"As your opinion, Mr. Randolph, of course that sentiment has some weight, but as a man of law, yourself, you must know that such an opinion must be proved before it can be really conclusive."
"Yes, of course," said Mr. Randolph, with a deep sigh. "But let me beg of you to look further in search of other indications before you press too hard upon Miss Lloyd with the seeming clues you now have."
I liked Mr. Randolph very much. Indeed it seemed to me that the men of West Sedgwick were of a fine class as to both intellect and judgment, and though Coroner Monroe was not a brilliant man, I began to realize that he had some sterling qualities and was distinctly just and fair in his decisions.
As for Gregory Hall, he seemed like a man free from a great anxiety. Though still calm and reserved in appearance, he was less nervous, and quietly awaited further developments. His attitude was not hard to understand. Mr. Crawford had objected to his secretary's engagement to his niece, and now Mr.
Crawford's objections could no longer matter. Again, it was not surprising that Mr. Hall should be glad to learn that his fiancee was the heiress she had supposed herself to he. Even though he were marrying the girl simply for love of her, a large fortune in addition was by no means to be despised. At any rate, I concluded that Gregory Hall thought so.
As often happened, Parmalee read my thoughts. "A fortune-hunter," he murmured, with a meaning glance at Hall.
I remembered that Mr. Carstairs, at the inn had said the same thing, and I thoroughly believed it myself.
"Has he any means of his own?"
"No," said Parmalee, "except his salary, which was a good one from Mr. Crawford, but of course he's lost that now."
"I don't feel drawn toward him. I suppose one would call him a gentleman and yet he isn't manly."
"He's a cad," declared Parmalee; "any fortune hunter is a cad, and I despise him."
Although I tried to hold my mind impartially open regarding Mr.
Hall, I was conscious of an inclination to despise him myself.
But I was also honest enough to realize that my principal reason for despising him was because he had won the hand of Florence Lloyd.
I heard Coroner Monroe draw a long sigh.
Clearly, the man was becoming more and more apprehensive, and really dreaded to go on with the proceedings, because he was fearful of what might be disclosed thereby.
The gold bag still lay on the table before him; the yellow rose petals were not yet satisfactorily accounted for; Miss Lloyd's agitation and sudden loss of consciousness, though not surprising in the circumstances, were a point in her disfavor. And now the revelation that Mr. Crawford was actually on the point of disinheriting his niece made it impossible to ignore the obvious connection between that fact and the event of the night.
But no one had put the thought into words, and none seemed inclined to.
Mechanically, Mr. Monroe called the next witness on his list, and Mrs. Pierce answered.
For some reason she chose to stand during her interview, and as she rose, I realized that she was a prim little personage, but of such a decided nature that she might have been stigmatized by the term stubborn. I had seen such women before; of a certain soft, outward effect, apparently pliable and amenable, but in reality, deep, shrewd and clever.
