“Oh, you gave it away! To whom? Can you get it back?”
“No, sir; I gave it to my cousin, who sailed for Germany last week.”
Miss Lloyd looked up in surprise, and that look of surprise told against her. I could see Parmalee's eyes gleam as he concluded in his own mind that the bag story was all false, was made up between mistress and maid, and that the part about the departing cousin was an artistic touch added by Elsa.
The coroner, too, seemed inclined to disbelieve the present witness, and he sat thoughtfully snapping the catch of the bag.
He turned again to Miss Lloyd. “Having given away your own bag,” he said suavely, “you have perhaps provided yourself with another, have you not?”
“Why, no, I haven't,” said Florence Lloyd. “I have been intending to do so, and shall get one shortly, but I haven't yet selected it.”
“And in the meantime you have been getting along without any?”
“A gold-mesh bag is not an indispensable article; I have several bags of other styles, and I'm in no especial haste to purchase a new one.”
Miss Lloyd's manner had taken on several degrees of hauteur, and her voice was incisive in its tone. Clearly she resented this discussion of her personal belongings, and as she entirely repudiated the ownership of the bag in the coroner's possession, she was annoyed at his questions.
Mr. Monroe looked at her steadily.