The Gold Bag. Wells Carolyn
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no interest for him; or whether he was looking ahead and wondering whither these vital questions were leading Florence Lloyd, I had no means of knowing. Certainly, he was a man of most impassive demeanor and marvellous self-control.
“Then, in effect, you defied your uncle?”
“In effect, I suppose I did; but not in so many words. I always tried to urge him to see the matter in a different light.”
“What was his objection to Mr. Hall as your husband?”
“Must I answer that?”
“Yes; I think so; as I must have a clear understanding of the whole affair.”
“Well, then, he told me that he had no objection to Mr. Hall, personally. But he wished me to make what he called a more brilliant alliance. He wanted me to marry a man of greater wealth and social position.”
The scorn in Miss Lloyd’s voice for her uncle’s ambitions was so unmistakable that it made her whole answer seem a compliment to Mr. Hall, rather than the reverse. It implied that the sterling worth of the young secretary was far more to be desired than the riches and rank advocated by her uncle. This time Gregory Hall looked at the speaker with a faint smile, that showed appreciation, if not adoration.
But I did not gather from his attitude that he did not adore his beautiful bride-to-be; I only concluded that he was not one to show his feelings in public.
However, I couldn’t help feeling that I had learned which of the two was more anxious for the engagement to continue.
“In what way was your uncle more definite in his threat last night, than he had been heretofore?” the coroner continued.
Miss Lloyd gave a little gasp, as if the question she had been dreading had come at last. She looked at the inexorable face of the butler, she looked at Mr. Randolph, and then flashed a half-timid glance at Hall, as she answered,
“He said that unless I promised to give up Mr. Hall, he would go last night to Mr. Randolph’s and have a new will drawn up.”
“Did he do so?” exclaimed Gregory Hall, an expression almost of fear appearing on his commonplace face.
Miss Lloyd looked at him, and seemed startled. Apparently his sudden question had surprised her.
Mr. Monroe paid no attention to Mr. Hall’s remark, but said to Miss Lloyd, “He had made such threats before, had he not?”
“Yes, but not with the same determination. He told me in so many words, I must choose between Mr. Hall or the inheritance of his fortune.”
“And your answer to this?”
“I made no direct answer. I had told him many times that I had no intention of breaking my engagement, whatever course he might choose to pursue.”
Mr. Orville was clearly delighted with the turn things were taking. He already scented a sensation, and he scribbled industriously in his rapidly filling note-book.
This habit of his disgusted me, for surely the jurors on this preliminary inquest could come to their conclusions without a detailed account of all these conversations.
I also resented the looks of admiration which Mr. Orville cast at the beautiful girl. It seemed to me that with the exception of Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter, who were family friends, the jurors should have maintained a formal and impersonal attitude.
Mr. Hamilton spoke directly to Miss Lloyd on the subject.
“I am greatly surprised,” he said, “that Mr. Crawford should take such a stand. He has often spoken to me of you as his heiress, and to my knowledge, your engagement to Mr. Hall is not of immediately recent date.”
“No,” said Miss Lloyd, “but it is only recently that my uncle expressed his disapprobation so strongly; and last night at dinner was the first time he positively stated his intention in regard to his will.”
At this Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter conversed together in indignant whispers, and it was quite evident that they did not approve of Mr. Crawford’s treatment of his niece.
Mr. Philip Crawford looked astounded, and also dismayed, which surprised me, as I had understood that had it not been for Miss Lloyd, he himself would have been his brother’s heir.
Mr. Randolph showed only a lawyer-like, noncommittal expression, and Gregory Hall, too, looked absolutely impassive.
The coroner grew more alert, as if he had discovered something of definite import, and asked eagerly,
“Did he do so? Did he go to his lawyer’s and make another will?”
Miss Lloyd’s cold calm had returned, and seemed to rebuke the coroner’s excited interest.
“I do not know,” she replied. “He went out after dinner, as I have told you, but I retired to my bedroom before he came home.”
“And you did not come down-stairs again last night?”
“I did not.”
The words were spoken in a clear, even tone; but something made me doubt their truth. It was not the voice or inflection; there was no hesitation or stammer, but a sudden and momentary droop of Miss Lloyd’s eyelids seemed to me to give the lie to her words.
I wondered if Gregory Hall had the same thought, for he slowly raised his own eyes and looked at her steadily for the first time since her testimony began.
She did not look at him. Instead, she was staring at the butler. Either she had reason to fear his knowledge, or I was fanciful. With an endeavor to shake off these shadows of suspicion, I chanced to look at Parmalee. To my disgust, he was quite evidently gloating over the disclosures being made by the witness. I felt my anger rise, and I determined then and there that if suspicion of guilt or complicity should by any chance unjustly light on that brave and lovely girl, I would make the effort of my life to clear her from it.
“You did not come down again,” the coroner went on pointedly, “to ask your uncle if he had changed his will?”
“No, I did not,” she replied, with such a ring of truth in her scornful voice, that my confidence returned, and I truly believed her.
“Then you were not in your uncle’s office last evening at all?”
“I was not.”
“Nor through the day?”
She reflected a moment. “No, nor through the day. It chanced I had no occasion to go in there yesterday at all.”
At these assertions of Miss Lloyd’s, the Frenchman, Louis, looked greatly disturbed. He tried very hard to conceal his agitation, but it was not at all difficult to read on his face an endeavor to look undisturbed at what he heard.
I hadn’t a doubt, myself, that the man either knew something that would incriminate Miss Lloyd, or that they two had a mutual knowledge of some fact as yet concealed.
I was surprised that no one else seemed to notice this, but the attention of every one in the room was concentrated on the coroner and the witness, and so Louis’s behavior passed unnoticed.
At this juncture, Mr. Lemuel Porter spoke with some dignity.
“It would seem,” he said, “that this concludes Miss Lloyd’s evidence in the matter. She has carried the narrative up to the point where Mr. Joseph Crawford went out of his house after dinner. As she herself retired to her room before his return, and did not again leave her room until this morning, she can have nothing further to tell us bearing on the tragedy. And as it is doubtless a most painful experience for her, I trust, Mr. Coroner, that you will excuse her from further questioning.”
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