“I regret to say that there is no doubt of it.”
“But when,—how?” she demanded, in a trembling voice.
“On Tuesday night.”
She drew a deep breath. The horror faded slowly from her face, and she repeated with great composure, “Oh, Tuesday night,” with a slight emphasis on the Tuesday.
The change in her was perfectly startling. She seemed calm,—almost indifferent.
“Have you discovered how he was murdered?” she inquired.
“Yes; he was stabbed through the heart by an instrument no larger than a knitting-needle.”
“How strange,” she exclaimed; “do you know who committed the crime?”
“Not yet,” said the Coroner; “and now, Mrs. Atkins, I ask you again if you are quite sure that you have never seen the deceased before?”
“Yes,” she answered, firmly.