"It may have flown there when it broke, or, what is much more probable, been kicked there by some of the many people who passed in and out of the room between the time of her death and that of its discovery." "But the register was found closed," urged the Coroner. "Was it not, Mr. Gryce?" That person thus appealed to, rose for an instant. "It was," said he, and deliberately sat down again. The face of the witness, which had been singularly free from expression since his last vehement outbreak, clouded over for an instant and his eye fell as if he felt himself engaged in an unequal struggle. But he recovered his courage speedily, and quietly observed: "The register may have been closed by a passing foot. I have known of stranger coincidences than that." "Mr. Van Burnam," asked the Coroner, as if weary of subterfuges and argument, "have you considered the effect which this highly contradictory evidence of yours is likely to have on your reputation?" "I have." "And are you ready to accept the consequences?" "If any especial consequences follow, I must accept them, sir." "When did you lose the keys which you say you have not now in your possession? This morning you asserted that you did not know; but perhaps this afternoon you may like to modify that statement." "I lost them after I left my wife shut up in my father's house." "Soon?" "Very soon." "How soon?" "Within an hour, I should judge." "How do you know it was so soon?" "I missed them at once." "Where were you when you missed them?" "I don't know; somewhere. I was walking the streets, as I have said. I don't remember just where I was when I thrust my hands into my pocket and found the keys gone." "You do not?" "No." "But it was within an hour after leaving the house?" "Yes." "Very good; the keys have been found." The witness started, started so violently that his teeth came together with a click loud enough to be heard over the whole room. "Have they?" said he, with an effort at nonchalance which, however, failed to deceive any one who noticed his change of color. "_You_ can tell me, then, where I lost them." "They were found," said the Coroner, "in their usual place above your brother's desk in Duane Street." "Oh!" murmured the witness, utterly taken aback or appearing so. "I cannot account for their being found in the office. I was so sure I dropped them in the street." "I did not think you could account for it," quietly observed the Coroner. And without another word he dismissed the witness, who staggered to a seat as remote as possible from the one where he had previously been sitting between his father and brother. XV. A RELUCTANT WITNESS.