She stared at him for a long moment, then without a word of any kind she walked by them and through the bedroom door near which Doctor Roberts was standing, waiting to greet her. Without halting Betty made at once for the four-post bedstead. "Wait, Betty!" Alan had gained her side and laid a compelling hand on her arm. "Paul is not there." Betty regarded him in utter silence, then faced about and looked at the small group in the bedroom. "Paul is dead--dead!" she spoke with great difficulty, one hand plucking always at the collar of her fur coat. "You shall not keep me from him. You--" for a second her blazing eyes scanned Sheriff Trenholm--"you dare not." "Hush, Betty!" Roberts took the overwrought girl's hand in his. "You shall see Paul later, dear, that I promise you. Sit down and calm yourself." "I have your word?" Betty's great eyes never left Roberts. "I shall see Paul?" "Yes. There, sit down," as Miriam Ward pulled forward a chair. "Perhaps the young lady had better withdraw to another room," suggested Coroner Dixon. "We are about to start an investigation--" "An investigation?" Betty's high-pitched voice, carrying a warning note of approaching hysteria to Miriam Ward's watchful ears, reached to the hall beyond and a figure crouching near the bedroom door, which had been inadvertently left open a few inches, leaned forward, the better to catch what was transpiring in the room. "What do you mean, sir?" Coroner Dixon contemplated her for a second in silence. Betty's unusual beauty generally commanded attention, but something in her expression focused the Coroner's regard rather than her good looks, marred as they were by deep circles under her eyes and haggard lines about her mouth. He answered her question with another. "Your name, madam?" he asked. "And your relation to the dead man?" "This is Miss Betty Carter," broke in Doctor Roberts. "Mr. Abbott's fiancée." "Is it so?" Coroner Dixon's interest quickened. "Then Mr. Abbott--" "Was very dear to me." Betty's tone had grown husky. "I must know all about his death." Her gaze swept Guy Trenholm, standing somewhat in the background. "It is my right." Coroner Dixon turned and glanced in doubt at Trenholm. At the latter's reassuring nod he faced about. "Very well, Miss Carter," he began. "Since you insist I will tell you what we have learned." He cleared his voice before continuing. "Judging by the condition of the body, Mr. Abbott died between one-thirty this morning and three o'clock. He was stabbed." "Stabbed!" With a convulsive movement Betty gained her feet, her face deadly white. "_Stabbed!_" Doctor Roberts laid a soothing hand on hers. "Be quiet, Betty," he cautioned. "Or you will have to go and lie down." She shook off his hand. "Go on," she directed, and the urgency of her tone caused Dixon to speak more rapidly. "Mr. Abbott was stabbed in the back," he stated. "We know no more than that, at present."