"If Miss Meredith will tell me how this central portion came to be on the attic floor, I will presently oblige you," rejoined the coroner.
She who of all present showed no interest in the completed sheet answered instantly, and without any further attempt at subterfuge or denial:
"I carried it there. I had come upon my uncle lying dead in his study, and thinking, fearing, that he had been struck while at the typewriter, I flew to the latter, and, lifting up the carriage, consulted the letter attached to it for some indication of this, and saw—George, Leighton, Alfred," she vehemently cried, facing them with a look before which each proud and spirited head sank in turn, "I do not know upon which of your three souls the weight of this crime rests. But one of you, one, I say, lies under the ban of your father's denunciation. Read!" And her trembling finger crossed that of the detective and fell upon a line terminating the half-finished letter which they had already partially read.
This was the appearance of that letter as now presented:
New York, N. Y., Oct. 17, 1899.
James C. Taylor, Esq.,
18 State St.,
Boston, Mass.,
Dear Sir:—