"Isn't she simply wonderful?" murmured Susan Amphlett in the ear of Mr. Symeon, who was standing by her chair. "She has been like that ever since." There was no need to say since what. "I was with her all yesterday; but it was not a bit of use. She has turned to stone. Not a tear, not a cry; only that dreadful look in her eyes, as if she were seeing him murdered. It would have been a relief to hear her scream, or burst into a flood of tears."
"That kind of woman does neither," said Symeon. "She is a grand soul, not a bundle of nerves. She has force and courage; and she knows that death does not matter."
The coroner treated this witness with the utmost respect, but he did not spare her. A crime so extraordinary demanded a severe investigation, and searching questions had to be asked.
Had Mr. Provana a quarrel with anybody, either in his social or business relations? Did the witness know of any incident in her husband's life—in England or in Italy—which might suggest a motive for the crime?
The answer to both questions was a negative.
"But he might have had a secret enemy without your knowledge?"
"It is possible. He would not have told me anything that would have made me anxious or unhappy."
For the first time there was a faint tremor in her voice as she said this; and the poet whispered three words in Lady Susan's ear—"She loved him!"
Asked whether she expected her husband's return, she replied that she had received no cablegram naming the steamer by which he was to return. She had received letters and cablegrams, but none within the last six days before his death. Asked whether they were on good terms when he left England, she replied that there had never been a difference of any kind between them.
She refused to be seated during this ordeal, and stood facing her questioner till he had asked his last question; and when Lady Okehampton came to her, wanting to lead her away, she insisted upon remaining near the end of the table, where the witnesses came one after another to give their evidence.