“Camille, they have sent me for you. You are wanted as a witness at the inquest,” he said, abruptly, and a low cry of alarm burst from her ashen lips.
“But I know nothing about it—I have never even seen the man!” she exclaimed, hoarsely.
CHAPTER XVI.
Norman de Vere looked eagerly into the beautiful, startled face before him. It was ashen pale, and the hazel eyes were dilated with terror.
“Camille, try to be calm. No one accuses you of knowing anything about it, but the coroner wishes to ask you a few questions—that is all,” he said, reassuringly.
She tried to subdue her traitor nerves—to appear calm and disdainful.
“I—I refuse to appear before a vulgar crowd like that. How dare they summon me?” she panted.
“Sit down, Camille, and I will tell you the truth. Your name has most unfortunately been connected with this affair, because Lord Stuart swears that the last time he saw his poor devil of a valet alive was yesterday at twilight, when he sent him to Verelands to bring you some flowers.”
“Flowers—to me! Oh, there is some mistake! I never received them. The man did not come to Verelands.”
“Yes, the man came to Verelands, Camille. Two of our servants, to my great surprise, were present at the inquest. They identified the corpse as a man who came to Verelands yesterday at twilight with flowers for you. He refused to give them into any hands but yours, and when they told him you were walking in the grounds, he went in search of you. No one ever saw him alive afterward unless you did.”