"No, sir," and the man's calm face quivered now. "It is as if photographed on my brain. I can never forget it. Behind Mr. Stannard were the two ladies, Mrs. Stannard and Miss Vernon." "Directly behind him?" "Not that, exactly. Mrs. Stannard stood behind, but off toward his left, and Miss Vernon was behind, but toward the right." "Show me exactly, Blake, where these two ladies stood," and Coroner Lamson rose to see his demands fulfilled. "Oh, sir," begged Blake, his frightened eyes wavering toward the members of the household which employed him, "oh, sir--Mrs. Faulkner, sir,--she came in with me,--she can tell better than I----" "Mrs. Faulkner will be questioned in due time. You came in first; we will hear your version and then hers. Be accurate now." With great hesitancy, Blake stepped to the spots he had designated. "Mrs. Stannard stood here," he said, indicating a position perhaps a yard back and to the left of Stannard's chair, which was still in its place. "What was she doing?" "Nothing, sir. One hand was on this table, and the other sort of clasped against her breast." "And Miss Vernon?" "She was over here," and Blake, still behind the chair, crossed to its other side, and stood near the outer door. "How was she standing?" "Against this small table, and the table was swaying back and forth, like it would upset in a minute." "And her hands?" "They were both behind her, sir, clutching at the table." "You have a wonderful memory, Blake," and the Coroner looked hard at his witness. "Not always, sir. But the thing is like a picture to my mind." "Like a moving picture?" "No, sir, nobody moved. It was like a tableau, sir----" "And then," prompted Inspector Bardon. At this point, Barry Stannard was again seen to look at Blake with a glance of deep concentration. "Important, if true," Detective Roberts said to himself. "Young Stannard is afraid of the footman's further disclosures!" Whether that was so or not, Blake suddenly lost his power of clear and concise narration. "Why, then----" he stammered, "then, all was confusion. I started toward Mr. Stannard, it--it seemed my duty. And Mrs. Faulkner, she came toward him----" "And the two ladies behind him?" "They came toward him, too, and Mrs. Stannard took hold of his hand----" "Well?" "Well, sir, I couldn't help it, sir--I blurted out, 'Who did this?' And Mr. Stannard--he said----" "_Said!_ Spoke?" Attention was concentrated on the footman, and it is doubtful if any one save Roberts noticed Barry Stannard's face. It was drawn in an agonised protest at the forthcoming revelation. But Blake, accustomed to obeying orders implicitly, continued to tell his story. "Yes, sir, he spoke--sort of whispered, in a gasping way----" "And what did he say?" "He said, 'Natalie, not Joyce.'" "You are sure?" "Yes, sir," answered the stolid Blake. "And he sort of raised his hand, pointing toward the lady." "Pointing toward Miss Vernon, you mean?" "Yes, sir."