The lights were burning when the last named witness left the chair, but there was no sign of weariness among the men and women in the room. Although several consulted their watches, no one rose to go. Their already deeply stirred interest was quickened into fever heat as, in obedience to the coroner's summons, Kathleen Whitney took her place in the witness chair. Dressed with the strict attention to detail and taste which made her one of the conspicuous figures in the younger set, Kathleen's appearance and beauty made instant impression upon juror and spectator alike. But her chic veil failed to hide the pallor of her cheeks, and the unnatural brilliancy of her eyes. Despite every effort at control, her voice shook as she repeated the oath word for word and stated her full name and age. "Have you always resided in Washington?" asked the coroner. "Yes." "Were you educated in this city?" "Yes, except for a winter in Germany." "Did you take up a special study while in Germany, Miss Whitney?" "Yes, miniature painting--" "And modeling?" as she paused. "Oh, no, I never studied that abroad although I occasionally help my father by modeling in clay." "When did you make your debut in Washington society?" "Last winter." "Did you then make Mr. Sinclair Spencer's acquaintance?" "No." She moved involuntarily at the mention of Spencer's name. "I had known him previously. He was one of father's friends, and much older than I." "Were you not reported engaged to him last fall?" Kathleen flushed at the question. "I never heard of it," she said coldly. "I do not encourage gossip." "Miss Whitney." Coroner Penfield surreptitiously scanned a small note handed him before the commencement of the inquest. The handwriting was distinctly foreign. "Miss Whitney," repeated Penfield. "Did you not refuse Mr. Spencer's offer of marriage on Tuesday morning?" For a moment Kathleen stared at him in speechless surprise. "Where did you get that piece of information?" she demanded, recovering herself. "You have not answered my question, Miss Whitney," and the quiet persistence of his manner impressed Kathleen. "Yes, I refused him," she admitted. "Did Mr. Spencer make any attempt to persuade you to reconsider your refusal?" "Yes." Kathleen shot an impatient look at the coroner. "I cannot see what my private affairs have to do with the regrettable death of Mr. Spencer," she protested. Penfield ignored her remark. "Did Mr. Spencer communicate with you Tuesday by letter or telephone?" he asked and waited, but the question remained unanswered. To the disappointment of the reporters, he did not repeat it, but asked instead: "Were you aware on Tuesday evening that Mr. Spencer was spending the night at your house?" "No." "Did you see either your father or your mother that night before retiring?" "No." "When did you last see Julie, your mother's maid?" "Before dinner when she came to my bedroom to help me change my dress."