Vera was not listening--voices in the hall and the sound of advancing footsteps came to them through the half-open door. “Have you been notified to attend the inquest?” she asked. Her question passed unheeded until Nurse Hall, raising a very red face from the exertion of stooping, had tied her shoestring. “No, I don’t have to go down,” she answered, puffing slightly. “I slept soundly all last night. It is too bad your rest has to be disturbed this afternoon; if you wish”--a sidelong glance accompanied the words--“I will continue on duty until midnight and give you an opportunity to make up lost sleep.” “I don’t believe I could sleep now, thanks all the same. You forget I found the--the body,” and a shudder which she could not suppress shook Vera. “I see it whenever I close my eyes.” “You poor thing!” Her companion patted her arm sympathetically. “We’ll sleep better and feel differently after the inquest and they remove the body. Someone is stopping at the door.” Not waiting for the low rap that sounded a second later, Vera had sped to open the door, and she found Murray, the footman, standing in the hall. “You are wanted, miss, in the library,” he said, and without a backward glance Vera closed the bedroom door and followed the servant down the staircase. Two men, strangers to her, were lounging in the square entrance hall near the front door, and at her approach they turned and watched her until the portières, which divided the hall, hid her tall, graceful figure from their sight. Vera paused an instant before opening the library door, then, taking a deep breath, she stepped inside the room. Grouped about the long center table were six men, while an elderly man occupied a chair near at hand, and the eighth man in the room sat before a side table taking notes. The elderly man, whose authoritative air rightly led Vera to conclude that he was Coroner Black, was on his feet instantly on catching sight of the new witness, and pulled forward a chair for her. “Miss Deane?” he questioned, and she bowed a silent response. “Then sit here, madam, after McPherson administers the oath,” and at his words the man at the small table stepped forward, Bible in hand. The homelike appearance of the library and the comfortably seated men, some with up-tilted chairs and sprawling legs, robbed the inquest of its legal atmosphere, but as Vera repeated the oath “to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God!” she became conscious of the concentrated regard of her companions, and her back stiffened as she seated herself bolt upright in the chair evidently set aside for the witnesses. She faced the windows, and the afternoon sunshine, like kindly fingers, touched her quaint snow-white cap, and gave a tint of red to her waving, curly hair, as her hazel eyes were calmly lifted to encounter the coroner’s penetrating gaze.