Zack and Zeb proved to be model witnesses under Warriner's skilful tutelage. It was positively determined that no stranger had been near the library terrace between eleven and two o'clock on the day in question. "Or anybody else?" asked Warriner. "Miss Eunice she done come by thar; walkin' up fum de gyarding," answered Zeb. "What time was that?" "Ah reckon 'bout one o'clock, sah." "How do you know? Do you carry a watch?" "Nossah, but de oberseer's bell for de fiel' hands just done rung," asserted the witness with conviction. "Where did Miss Trevor go?" "I doan know, sah. I speck she went plum into de manshun house--roun' de cornah, sah." Zack could add nothing more to this statement, and Zeb, when called in his turn, merely produced corroborative testimony. "I think we had better see Miss Trevor herself," said Warriner, after Zeb had bowed and scraped his way out. "All damned nonsense," objected Thaneford, looking uglier than ever. "And I must say, Mr. Warriner, that you are taking a great deal too much on yourself. I'm the coroner, and I know my duty." Warriner stuck to his guns, and he was backed up by a juryman named Orton, a well-to-do farmer and an unusually intelligent man, as it seemed to me. Thaneford finally yielded ungracious assent and Miss Trevor again entered the room. As she stood confronting us I was struck by the intense pallor of her skin, when contrasted with the coal blackness of her hair and her sombre apparel of mourning. Yet she appeared perfectly collected and self-possessed; she admitted readily that she had been on the library terrace at the approximate hour of one o'clock; she explained that she had gone to the walled garden to cut some flowers for the luncheon table; she had returned by the terrace as that was the shortest way to the front door; she had entered the house, and, after arranging the flowers, she had retired to her own room. Warriner put a question or two relative to her taking Effingham's post at the library door while Doctor Marcy was endeavoring to break the news to Betty; her answers were definite and given without hesitation. Yes, she had sent the servant upstairs to get the smelling salts and the ammonia; she had thought the restoratives might be needed. Her account of the finding of the body agreed perfectly with the story told by Doctor Marcy. "Thank you, Miss Trevor," said Warriner. "Just one more question. What sort of flowers did you cut on your visit to the garden?" "Yellow roses. I think the variety is called _Madame Colette Marinette_." Upon Miss Trevor's retirement the verdict was taken. It was unanimous and to the effect that Francis Hildebrand Graeme had come to his death through the visitation of God.