“Dr. Washburn of Alexandria. Dr. Noyes called him in consultation, and all arrangements were made last week to take over the case.” Coroner Black considered a moment before again addressing her, and Mrs. Porter permitted her gaze to wander about, noting inwardly the disarrangement of the usually orderly room, and she turned back to the jurors with a distinct air of disapproval. Coroner Black’s next question caused her to catch her breath sharply. “Were your daughter and Mr. Bruce Brainard engaged to be married?” he asked. “I question your right to ask that,” she retorted. “My family affairs had nothing to do with Mr. Brainard’s shocking suicide.” “We are the best judges of that, madam,” replied Black quietly. “It is our duty to expedite this inquiry, and to do so we must know whether or not Mr. Brainard was on friendly terms with each member of this household on the night of his death--” “He was, sir, otherwise he would not have been my guest,” broke in Mrs. Porter. “Did you invite him to spend the night, or only to dine with you?” “I simply asked him to dinner.” She paused, then added: “He was taken ill at the dinner table, and my nephew, Mr. Wyndham, and Dr. Noyes helped him upstairs and put him to bed in one of the spare bedrooms. Dr. Noyes said that Mr. Brainard was in no condition to motor in to Washington last night.” “When did you last see Mr. Brainard?” “When he left the dining-room.” Black looked at her attentively and noted the flush which had mounted to her pale cheeks during their colloquy. “I must remind you, madam,” he commenced, and his manner was serious, “that you have not answered my question regarding the relationship existing between your daughter and Mr. Brainard.” “They were friends,” curtly. “Nothing more?” persisted the coroner. Mrs. Porter regarded him with no friendly eye, then apparently thinking better of her brusqueness, answered more courteously: “Mr. Brainard admired my daughter greatly, and paid her the compliment of asking my consent to their marriage.” “Did you give your consent?” prompted Black as she stopped. “He was to have had my answer this morning.” “Oh!” The coroner gazed blankly at Mrs. Porter, failing utterly to appreciate her stately beauty and quietly gowned, modish figure. She was a remarkably well preserved woman, on whose face time had left few wrinkles, and she looked much younger than she was. Several seconds elapsed before Black again addressed her. “Did your daughter reciprocate Mr. Brainard’s affection?” “My daughter would not have accepted his attention had she not liked and admired him,” she responded evasively, and Black lost all patience. “Kindly give a direct answer to my question,” he exclaimed harshly. “Were your daughter and Mr. Brainard engaged?” “I believe there was an understanding to that effect,” she admitted sullenly. “But until I gave my consent”--a shrug completed the sentence, and Black instantly asked: “Why did you withhold your consent, madam?”