“I do,” she replied.
“From whom did they come?”
“From Mr. Hall.”
“Mr. Hall,” said, the coroner, turning toward the young man, “how could you send flowers to Miss Lloyd last evening if you were in New York City?”
“Easily,” was the cool reply. “I left Sedgwick on the six o'clock train. On my way to the station I stopped at a florist's and ordered some roses sent to Miss Lloyd. If they did not arrive until she was at dinner, they were not sent immediately, as the florist promised.”
“When did you receive them, Miss Lloyd?”
“They were in my room when I went up there at about ten o'clock last evening,” she replied, and her face showed her wonderment at these explicit questions.
The coroner's face showed almost as much wonderment, and I said: “Perhaps, Mr. Monroe, I may ask a few questions right here.”
“Certainly,” he replied.
And thus it was, for the first time in my life, I directly addressed Florence Lloyd.