"What have you done with them? Did you return them to your brother?"
"No; I see where your inquiries are tending, and I do not suppose you will believe my simple word; but I lost the keys on the day I received them; that is why——"
"Well, you may continue, Mr. Van Burnam."
"I have no more to say; my sentence was not worth completing."
The murmur which rose about him seemed to show dissatisfaction; but he remained imperturbable, or rather like a man who did not hear. I began to feel a most painful interest in the inquiry, and dreaded, while I anxiously anticipated, his further examination.
"You lost the keys; may I ask when and where?"
"That I do not know; they were missing when I searched for them; missing from my pocket, I mean."
"Ah! and when did you search for them?"
"The next day—after I had heard—of—of what had taken place in my father's house."
The hesitations were those of a man weighing his reply. They told on the jury, as all such hesitations do; and made the Coroner lose an atom of the respect he had hitherto shown this easy-going witness.