“Home.”
“But it was half-past ten when you got home.”
“Was it?”
“It was half-past ten when the man came to tell you of your sister’s death.”
“It may have been.”
“Your sister is supposed to have died in a few minutes. Where were you in the interim?”
“God knows. I do not.”
A wild look was creeping into her face, and her figure was swaying. But she soon steadied it. I have never seen a more admirable presence maintained in the face of a dreadful humiliation.
“Perhaps I can help you,” rejoined the coroner, not unkindly. “Were you not in the Congressional Library looking up at the lunettes and gorgeously painted walls?”
“I?” Her eyes opened wide in wondering doubt. “If I was, I did not know it. I have no remembrance of it.”