"Just what I say," returned Haviland, bluntly. "She went slowly, now and then pausing to listen, twice drawing back around a corner and peeping out, and then coming forth again; she wore no shoes and carried no light; she went down the big staircase in the manner I have described, and after about ten minutes, returned in the same fashion. That's what I mean by stealthily." "What was your errand?" asked Scofield of Estelle. "Nothing. I didn't go," she replied, coolly. "She tells an untruth," said Gray, calmly. "She did go, just as I have described. But it was doubtless on an innocent errand. I have no idea she was implicated in Miss Carrington's death. I am sure it is of casual explanation,--or, I was sure, until Estelle denied it." "How was it you chanced to see her?" "I was wakeful, and I was prowling around to find something to read. I went out in the hall and got a magazine from the table, and had returned to my room and was just closing the door, when I saw a white figure glide across the hall. She passed through a moonlit space or I could not have seen her. She was wrapped in a light or white kimono thing, and I should never have thought of it again if it were not for what has happened." "You knew it to be this Estelle?" "Yes; her red hair was hanging in a braid." "'Tisn't red!" snapped Estelle, but Mr. Scofield silenced her with a frown. "Well, auburn, then," said Haviland, easily. "You may as well own up, Estelle; what did you go down for?" "I didn't go," repeated the maid, obstinately, and no cross-questioning could prevail on her to admit otherwise. "All right," and Haviland shrugged his shoulders; "I suppose it doesn't matter, as the crime was committed about one o'clock. It's up to you, Mr. Coroner, to find some person who acted suspiciously nearer that time. And, by the way, as man of business of this estate, unless some worthwhile evidence is forthcoming pretty soon, I'm going to round up a detective or two who will get somewhere." "Give us a little more time, Mr. Haviland," said Scofield, suavely, "this inquest is only begun." "Well, get it over with, and then, if the truth hasn't come to light, I'll take a hand." Miss Frayne was called next, and Anita, with a look of importance on her pretty face, came forward. Her evidence, at first, was merely a repetition of that already heard, and she corroborated Pauline's recital of the scene as the two girls bade Miss Carrington good-night. "And then?" prompted the Coroner. "Then I went to my room, but I didn't retire. I sat thinking over what Miss Carrington had said to me. And as I thought about it, I concluded that this time I was really dismissed from her secretaryship. And that made me feel very sorry, for it is a good position and I've no wish to lose it. So,--after a time, I began to think I would go to Miss Carrington's room and if she were still up, I would beg her forgiveness." "Forgiveness for what?"