"She was at my left and a little behind me. She was a shy woman. I usually took the lead when we were together."
"Was she veiled?" the coroner continued quietly.
"I think so. She had been crying——" The bereaved daughter paused.
"But don't you know?"
"My impression is that her veil was down when we came into the room. She may have lifted it as she stood there. I know that it was lifted as we went upstairs. I remember feeling glad that the lamps gave so poor a light, she looked so distressed."
"Physically, do you mean, or mentally?"
Mr. Hammersmith asked this question. It seemed to rouse some new train of thought in the girl's mind. For a minute she looked intently at the speaker, then she replied in a disturbed tone:
"Both. I wonder——" Here her thought wavered and she ceased.
"Go on," ordered the coroner impatiently. "Tell your story. It contradicts that of the landlord in almost every point, but we've promised to hear it out, and we will."
Rousing, she hastened to obey him.