"The study."
"It had been locked, then?"
"Yes, sir; Mr. Robert had locked it after the professor died."
"Which was on Tuesday?"
"Yes, sir."
"Go on with your story."
"After Mr. Robert opened the study door he was acting lonesome. I went in and said, 'Shall I dust the room, Mr. Robert? It needs it.' 'Yes, do, Bertha,' said he. 'I'm expecting a lawyer. Is Ellen in?' 'She was going out,' I answered, 'but I think I heard her run upstairs to her room.' Well, I went for the duster, and when I came back Mr. Robert was standing over the hearth. 'Is that you, Ellen?' he said, dazed-like and absent-minded. But when he saw it was me he only laughed."
"What was Mr. Floyd doing when you startled him?" interposed the deep bass of the district attorney, cutting short the progress of the girl's high treble.
"Why, sir, he was stooping over."
"Over the hearth, you said?"