"She was shot at close quarters while ascending the incline leading from the railway arch towards Stratfield Mortimer. The weapon used was an Army revolver. I produce the bullet I have extracted," he answered, taking it from his vest-pocket and handing it across the table. "The deceased's assailant stood on her left-hand side, and must have shot her as she rode along. She evidently mounted her cycle at the commencement of the incline, and having run down swiftly and passed beneath the arch, was again descending when the shot was fired." "Was death instantaneous?" inquired the foreman of the jury. "Scarcely," answered the doctor. "Such a wound must, however, cause death. Immediate attention could not have saved her." A thrill of horror ran through the crowded court. Nearly everyone present had seen Nelly Bridson, with her smiling happy face, riding about the village and roads in the vicinity, and the knowledge that she had met with an end so terrible yet mysterious, appalled them. Some further questions were put to the doctor, after which George Stratfield entered. As he raised the greasy copy of Holy Writ to his lips, his eyes fell upon Liane. She was sitting, pale and rigid, with a strange haggard expression upon her beautiful countenance such as he had never before beheld. He gazed upon her in alarm and surprise. The Coroner's questions, however, compelled him to turn towards the jury, and in reply he explained how, on that fateful evening after his father's death, he was riding along Cross Lane, and was horrified by discovering the body of Nelly Bridson. In detail he described every incident, how he had lifted her up, and finding her quite dead, had ridden on into the village to obtain assistance. Liane listened to his story open-mouthed. Her hands were closed tightly, and once or twice, when questions were put to him by Coroner or jury, she held her breath until he had answered. She was as one paralysed by some unknown fear. Their gaze met more than once, and on each occasion he fancied he detected, even through her veil, that her eyes were dark and haggard, like one consumed by some terrible dread. "You have, I believe, some knowledge of this miniature," the Coroner observed, again taking the small oval bejewelled portrait in his hand. "Yes," he answered. "It is undoubtedly the one which has been missing from my late father's collection for more than twenty years. It was supposed to have been stolen, but by whom could never be ascertained. My father had several times offered handsome rewards for its recovery, as it is a family portrait." "You have no idea, I suppose, by what means it could have come into the unfortunate girl's possession?" "None whatever. The unexpected discovery amazed me." "You have not told us what caused you to ride along Cross Lane on that evening," the foreman of the jury observed presently. Again Liane held her breath.