"You were not in Miss Carrington's boudoir at one o'clock or thereabouts?" Count Charlier's black eyes snapped. But by a successful effort he controlled his indignation, and said, simply, "I was not." "But she was heard to address you." "Impossible, as I was not there." "She distinctly declared that you were the mark she aimed at. What construction do you put upon those words?" "It is not for me to boast of my attraction for a lady." Count Charlier simpered a little, and Gray Haviland looked at him with a frown of undisguised scorn. Haviland had never liked the Count, indeed, he even doubted his right to the title, and especially had he feared a marriage between him and Miss Lucy. And, granting that this feeling was partly due to a consideration of his own interests, Haviland also distrusted the Frenchman and doubted Miss Lucy's happiness as his wife. "Did Miss Carrington leave you a bequest of ten thousand dollars in United States bonds?" went on the Coroner. "I--I don't know," and the Count stammered in an embarrassed way. "You do know!" shouted Haviland; "the will has been read, and you know perfectly well that such a bequest was left to you." "Why did you deny the knowledge?" asked Scofield, sternly. "I'm--I'm not sure----" "You are sure!" stormed Gray. "Now where were you when Miss Carrington spoke those words to you? If not in her boudoir, then on the balcony outside the window, perhaps." "Absurd," said the Coroner. "Not at all," said Gray; "that window opens on a balcony enclosed by glass. It is easily reached from outside by a small staircase, mostly used in summer, but always available. How could Miss Carrington speak to the Count concerning the bonds and concerning her infatuation for himself, which is no secret, unless he were there before her? And how could he be in the room--in her boudoir--unknown to the servants? Moreover, Mr. Coroner, I believe the glove found in Miss Carrington's hand to be the property of Count Charlier." "But no!" cried the witness, excitedly; "I have repeatedly disclaimed that glove. It is not mine, I know not whose it is. I know nothing of this sad affair, whatever. If the money is left to me, as I have been told, it is a--a surprise to me." "Surprise nothing!" murmured Haviland, but he said no more to the Count. "If my story might be told now,--" ventured Mrs. Frothingham. After a moment's hesitation, Coroner Scofield decided to let her tell it, as having a possible bearing on Count Charlier's testimony. The rather stunning-looking widow was fashionably dressed, and she fluttered with an air of importance as she took the stand. She related again the story she had told of the supposed burglar, whom she saw leaving the living-room by way of a window, at four o'clock on Wednesday morning. "How can you be so sure it was a burglar?" asked Scofield.