Mr. Jeffrey’s reason for his visit there could not be her reason, yet what other had she to give? Apparently none.
“I can not answer,” she said.
And the deep sigh which swept through the room was but an echo of the despair with which she saw herself brought to this point.
“We will not oblige you to,” said the coroner with apparent consideration. But to those who knew the law against forcing a witness to incriminate himself, this was far from an encouraging concession.
“However,” he now went on, with suddenly assumed severity, “you may answer this. Was the house dark or light when you entered it? And, how did you get in?”
“The house was dark, and I got in through the front door, which I found ajar.”
“You are more courageous than most women! I fear there are few of your sex who could be induced to enter it in broad daylight and under every suitable protection.”
She raised her figure proudly.
“Miss Tuttle, you have heard Chloe say that you were in the kitchen of Mr. Jeffrey’s house when the grocer boy delivered the candles which had been left by your brother-in-law on the counter of the store where he bought them. Is this true?”
“Yes, sir, it is true.”