"But truths that are irrelevant to the matter in hand," declared Lawrence. "Your investigation, I take it, is for the purpose of discovering the murderer of Mr. Robert Pembroke; and it surely cannot aid you to pry into the personal affairs of Miss Pembroke."
"It is quite possible," said the Coroner, coldly, "that Miss Pembroke's personal affairs may have some bearing on our quest. However I agree with you, to this extent. I think it will be preferable not to learn of these matters through the testimony of a menial. I think I should prefer to learn the truth from Miss Pembroke herself. Miss Pembroke, will you now give your evidence?"
Doctor Masterson's expression had grown even more worried than before. He seemed to me to look positively alarmed, and I wondered what it was that troubled him so.
Miss Pembroke, on the contrary, was absolutely composed, and had again assumed that air of hauteur which I had sometimes noticed on her face when I had met her before I was privileged to speak to her, but which had been utterly absent since her uncle's death.
The coroner looked at her, not unkindly, but with an air of coldness which quite matched her own.
"Your name?" he said briefly.
"Janet Pembroke."
"Your relation to the deceased?"
"That of great-niece. Robert Pembroke was my grandfather's brother."