“Did you know that you were to inherit this house and a large sum of money at Miss Van Norman’s death?” The question was thrown at her so suddenly that Miss Morton almost gasped.
She hesitated for an appreciable instant, then with a sudden snap of her strong, angular jaw, she said, “No!”
“You had no intimation of it whatever?”
“No.” Again that excessive decision of manner, which to Fessenden’s mind, at least, stultified rather than corroborated the verity of her statement.
But Coroner Benson expressed no doubt of his witness, but merely said casually:
“Yet, on the occasion of the tragedy last night, you at once assumed the attitude of the head of the house. You gave orders to the servants, you took up the reins of management, and seemed to anticipate the fact that the house was eventually to be your own.”
Miss Morton looked aghast. If one chose to think so, she looked as if detected in a false statement. Glancing round the room, she saw the eyes of Kitty French and of Marie, the maid, intently fixed on her. This seemed to unnerve her, and in a broken, trembling voice, almost a whine, she said:
“If I did so, it was only with a helpful motive. Mrs. Markham was so collapsed with the shock she had just sustained, that she was really incapable of giving orders. If I did so, it was only from a desire to be of service.”
This seemed indeed plausible, and the most casual observer would know that Miss Morton’s “helpfulness” could only be accomplished in a peremptory and dictatorial manner.
“Will you tell us why Miss Van Norman chose to leave you so large a bequest, when she had known you so slightly?” asked Mr. Benson.