“Landon? The chap you used to be in love with?” and Judge Hoyt made a wry face.
“In love! Nonsense! I’m as much in love with him now as I ever was.”
“And how much is that?”
“It’s so long since I’ve seen him, I’ve forgotten,” and Avice, who couldn’t help an occasional flash of her innate coquetry, smiled up into the stern face regarding her.
“Beg pardon, Miss Avice,” said Stryker, the butler, coming toward them; “but do you want to be in the drawing-room for the—the inquest, or upstairs?”
“I want to be right near the coroner and the jury. I want to know everything that goes on. Shall we go in there now, Leslie?”
“Yes, in a moment. What do you know of Mr. Trowbridge’s death, Stryker?”
“Me, Judge Hoyt? Nothing,—nothing at all, sir. How should I?”
“I don’t know, I’m sure. I merely asked. Where were you yesterday afternoon, Stryker?”
“It was my day off, sir. I was out all afternoon.”