Dr. Stanton told of his being called to the house, and his discoveries and conclusions. He admitted that he assumed death was caused by the blow on the head, but claimed that it was a pardonable error in view of the fact that such a blow had been given. He affirmed, and Dr. Moore corroborated it, that the autopsy showed that death was caused by aconitine poison, administered, either by the deceased or another, at an hour not earlier than one o'clock, and probably soon thereafter. The terrible blow that had fractured the skull had been given after life had been for some time extinct. Dr. Stanton asserted emphatically his late patient's detestation of drugs or medicines of any sort, adducing thereby the extreme improbability of the poison having been self-administered. Moreover, the temperament and disposition of the late Miss Carrington entirely evinced a love of life and desire to prolong it by means of any device or assistance the doctor might give. Pauline was called next, and a little flutter of excitement in the audience greeted her appearance. Exceedingly dignified, but of a sweet, gracious mien, she at once received the silent approval of the crowd. Her black gown, its collar of sheer white organdy slightly open at the throat, well suited her pale, beautiful face and her dark hair and eyes. To-day, her eyes seemed fathomless. At times, gazing intently at the Coroner until they almost disconcerted him; and then, hidden by veiling lids, whose long lashes fell suddenly, as if to conceal further disclosures. On the whole, Pauline was not a satisfactory witness. She told, in most straightforward way, of leaving the breakfast table to go to her aunt's room and of finding there the dead body. She told clearly all the circumstances of the upset tray, the spilled powder and the eccentric garb of Miss Carrington herself. But questions as to her opinion of these facts brought little response. "You left Miss Carrington at half-past twelve?" asked Coroner Scofield. "Not so late, I think," returned Pauline; "probably at quarter or twenty minutes past twelve,--I am not sure." "How was she then dressed?" "In the gown she had worn during the evening." "And her jewels?" "When I left my aunt, she was wearing her pearls and the other jewelry she had worn with her evening dress. Some brooches and rings and bracelets." "But not so much as she had on when you discovered her in the morning?" "Not nearly so much." "How do you account for this?" "I don't account for it. To me it is exceedingly mysterious." "And the paper snake round her neck?" "I have no idea by whom such a thing could have been brought to my aunt. But I am positive she never put it on herself. Nor can I think she would allow it to come near her if she were alive,--or conscious,--or, had power to scream for help. Any one knowing my aunt's fear and horror of anything reptilian will agree to this."