There was craning of necks and bending of heads as the Morgue Master opened the door leading to the room where the witnesses waited to be called, and every eye was focussed on Kitty Baird as she stepped into the court room. "Don't look so startled, Kitty," whispered Dr. Leonard McLean in her ear. He had retained his seat by the door, expecting to leave at any moment. "This inquest is only a legal formality." "But these people--the publicity," she faltered. "Move on, Miss, move on," directed Hume, the Morgue Master. "You can't talk to the witnesses, Doctor. This way, Miss," and interposing his thickset, stocky figure between Leonard and Kitty, he followed her to the platform and administered the oath: "To tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth." Kitty sat down in the witness chair with a feeling of thankfulness. The space between it and the door through which she had entered had seemed an endless distance as she traversed it. Coroner Penfield swung his chair around so as to obtain a better view of her. "Your full name?" he asked. "Katrina Baird." Her low voice barely reached the jurors, and Penfield smiled at her encouragingly. "Please speak louder," he suggested. "Were you related to Miss Susan Baird?" "Yes; she was my aunt," Kitty's voice gained in strength as her confidence returned. "My father, Judge George Baird, was her only brother." "You made your home in Georgetown with your aunt?" "Yes, ever since the death of my parents." "And who else resided with your aunt?" "No one." "No servants?" "No. Our only servant, Oscar, never slept in the house." "Did your aunt ever employ another servant?" "No." "No chambermaid?" "No." Kitty's flush was becoming to her, the coroner decided. The added color brought out the blue of her eyes and softened the haggard lines which had come overnight. "My aunt could not afford to employ two servants, so we looked after the house, Oscar doing the heavy work. He was always faithful and kind." "And devoted to your aunt?" with a quick look at her. "Yes, certainly," she responded, calmly. There was a brief pause before Penfield again addressed her, and Kitty, her first nervous dread of facing the crowded court room a thing of the past, allowed her gaze to wander about the room. It was with a sharp stab of pain that she recognized more than one familiar face among the spectators. Could it be that men and women whom her aunt had counted among her friends and whom she had entertained in her limited way had come to the inquest from curiosity? Kitty shivered, the idea shocked her. "Did you spend last Sunday at home, Miss Baird?" asked Penfield. "No, not the entire day," she replied. "I left there about three o'clock in the afternoon to go to my cousin, Mrs. Benjamin Potter, at whose apartment I was to spend the night." "Was it your custom to leave your aunt alone in the house at night?"