"I was sitting in the upper hall,--it is really a sitting-room, at the bay-windowed end,--looking at the moon. I, too, had been disturbed at my aunt's attitude, and her threats to send me away to-day, and I had gone to the hall window-seat, a favorite haunt of mine, and had sat there for a half hour or more." "Could any one going through the hall see you?" "Probably not, as the draperies are heavy, and I was in the deep window-seat. I was thinking I would go to my room, and then I saw Miss Frayne come from my aunt's room and go to her own." "Are you sure she came from the room?" "She was closing the door, her hand was on the knob. She did not see me, I am sure, for I drew back in the window and watched her. And just then I heard the hall clock chime the quarter after one." "You didn't see Miss Frayne when she went to Miss Carrington's room?" "No; I suppose I was then looking out of the deep window." "Nor did you hear her?" "No, the rugs are thick and a light foot-fall makes no sound." "What did you next do?" "I went--I went straight to my own room." The slight hesitation told against Pauline. All through her testimony, all through her arraignment of Anita,--for it amounted to that,--she had been cool, calm and imperturbable. But now a momentary hesitation of speech, added perhaps, to the circumstantial story of Anita Frayne, caused a wave of doubt,--not enough to call suspicion,--but a questioning attitude to form in the minds of many of the audience. To whom, if not Miss Stuart, could Miss Carrington's remarks about beauty have been addressed? It was well known that Miss Lucy adored beauty and had all her life lamented her own lack of it. This was no secret woe of the poor lady's. To any one who would listen, she would complain of her hard lot in having all the gifts of the gods except good looks. To whom else would she say 'To-morrow all these jewels will be yours,--if you--ah, but _will_ you?' And yet, after all, it did not make sense. Was it not far more likely to be a figment of Miss Frayne's clever mind, for what purpose who might say? At any rate, their stories were contradictory and moreover were garbled. The jurymen sighed. The case had been mysterious enough before, now it was becoming inexplicable. IX FURTHER TESTIMONY Count Henri Charlier was being questioned, and he was distinctly ill at ease. His French _savoir faire_ was not proof against definite inquiries as to his intentions regarding the late Miss Carrington, and indefinite allusions concerning his movements on the night of her death. He had related, straightforwardly enough, his visit at Garden Steps that evening and his departure at or about midnight. He denied his engagement of marriage, but admitted that he had paid Miss Carrington such attentions as might lead her to suspect an attachment. "You did not return to this house after leaving on Tuesday night?" "Most assuredly not."