The girl left the witness-stand looking greatly troubled.
But the suspicious Mr. Fessenden firmly believed she looked troubled because it made her more prettily pathetic.
He wasn’t entirely right in this, but neither was Dorothy Burt quite as ingenuous as she appeared.
XVIII
CARLETON IS FRANK
Nearly a week had passed.
The funeral of Madeleine Van Norman had been such as befitted the last of the name, and she had been reverently laid away to rest in the old family vault.
But the mystery of her death was not yet cleared up. The coroner’s inquest had been finished, but most of the evidence, though vaguely indicative, had been far from conclusive.
No further witnesses had been found, and no further important fact had been discovered.
Schuyler Carleton maintained the same inscrutable air, and, though often nervous to the verge of collapse, had reiterated his original story over and over again without deviation. He still refused to state his errand to the Van Norman house on the night of Madeleine’s death. He still declined to say what he was doing between the time he entered the house and the time when he cried out for help. He himself asserted there was little, if any, time therein unaccounted for.