“You did not return to this house after leaving on Tuesday night?”
“Most assuredly not.”
“You were not in Miss Carrington’s boudoir at one o’clock or thereabouts?”
Count Charlier’s black eyes snapped. But by a successful effort he controlled his indignation, and said, simply, “I was not.”
“But she was heard to address you.”
“Impossible, as I was not there.”
“She distinctly declared that you were the mark she aimed at. What construction do you put upon those words?”
“It is not for me to boast of my attraction for a lady.”
Count Charlier simpered a little, and Gray Haviland looked at him with a frown of undisguised scorn. Haviland had never liked the Count, indeed, he even doubted his right to the title, and especially had he feared a marriage between him and Miss Lucy. And, granting that this feeling was partly due to a consideration of his own interests, Haviland also distrusted the Frenchman and doubted Miss Lucy’s happiness as his wife.
“Did Miss Carrington leave you a bequest of ten thousand dollars in United States bonds?” went on the Coroner.