“For, strange as it may seem to you,” Mary earnestly continued, the shadow of a past horror revisiting her countenance, “I did not enter the room where my uncle lay. I did not even think of doing so; my only impulse was to fly from what was so horrible and heartrending. But Eleanore went in, and she can tell you——”
“We will question Miss Eleanore Leavenworth later,” interrupted the coroner, but very gently for him. Evidently the grace and elegance of this beautiful woman were making their impression. “What we want to know is what you saw. You say you cannot tell us of anything that passed in the room at the time of the discovery?”
“No, sir.”
“Only what occurred in the hall?”
“Nothing occurred in the hall,” she innocently remarked.
“Did not the servants pass in from the hall, and your cousin come out there after her revival from her fainting fit?”
Mary Leavenworth’s violet eyes opened wonderingly.
“Yes, sir; but that was nothing.”
“You remember, however, her coming into the hall?”
“Yes, sir.”