"Did she seem discontented with her situation?'" questioned the coroner. "No." "Did Julie ever evince dislike to Mr. Spencer?" Kathleen's hand crept to her throat and she plucked nervously at her veil. "Julie was too respectful to discuss our family friends with me," she said. "You have not answered my question, Miss Whitney," was Penfield's quick retort, and Kathleen flushed under the rebuke. "Because I am aware that you are striving to make me incriminate Julie in Mr. Spencer's death," she began heatedly. "Instead, you and the police should make every effort to find Julie and protect her ..." "From what?" "I don't know," hopelessly. "Julie has no friends in this city, no one whom she could turn to in trouble but me. I cannot understand her disappearance; I fear, greatly fear, foul play." "Circumstantial evidence points to her having disappeared of her own volition, Miss Whitney, to escape being charged with a heinous crime." "Pardon me, her disappearance is the only scrap of evidence which leads you to think she might possibly have murdered a man whom she knew by sight," retorted Kathleen. "Was it your habit to supply Julie with money?" questioned the coroner. "Yes, which she sent to France as her mite toward the war fund," answered Kathleen heatedly. "I am confident Julie had nothing whatever to do with the death of Mr. Spencer." "Can you tell us who did, Miss Whitney?" asked Penfield, and he saw the terror which crept into her handsome eyes. "I cannot," she answered with unsteady lips. "I never awoke that night." "What took you downstairs at so early an hour yesterday morning?" "I had rung the upstairs bell for Julie, and as she did not come, I started to go down and find her," she hesitated uncertainly. "Continue," directed Penfield. "Tell your story of finding Mr. Spencer's body in your own way." It was some minutes before Kathleen obeyed his request. "I went to the elevator and pushed the button," she began slowly. "I was in a hurry, and when I heard the click which indicated the cage was there I opened the outer mahogany door, pushed back the inner steel grille-work door, stepped into the elevator and without looking about me, closed the doors, and pushed the basement button. Then I turned about"--Kathleen moistened her dry lips--"and saw--and saw--Mr. Spencer lying there--the blood"--she closed her eyes as if to shut out the recollection--"I think for a time I lost my reason. I have no intelligent recollection of anything that occurred until I found myself in bed with a trained nurse in attendance." As her charming voice ceased, Charles Miller, who had never taken his eyes from her face, gently moved his chair so that Foster's figure cast him in shadow. Never once had Kathleen glanced his way; she sat for the most part with her eyes downcast or looking directly at the coroner. Kathleen was visibly moved by the recital of her experiences in the elevator, and Penfield waited an instant before questioning her further.