Gertrude's Engagement

"Have you reason to believe, Miss Innes," the coroner asked, "that any
member of your household, imagining Mr. Armstrong was a burglar, shot
him in self-defense?"

"I have no reason for thinking so," I said quietly.

"Your theory is that Mr. Armstrong was followed here by some enemy, and
shot as he entered the house?"

"I don't think I have a theory," I said. "The thing that has puzzled
me is why Mr. Armstrong should enter his father's house two nights in
succession, stealing in like a thief, when he needed only to ask
entrance to be admitted."

The coroner was a very silent man: he took some notes after this, but
he seemed anxious to make the next train back to town. He set the
inquest for the following Saturday, gave Mr. Jamieson, the younger of
the two detectives, and the more intelligent looking, a few
instructions, and, after gravely shaking hands with me and regretting
the unfortunate affair, took his departure, accompanied by the other
detective.

I was just beginning to breathe freely when Mr. Jamieson, who had been
standing by the window, came over to me.

"The family consists of yourself alone, Miss Innes?"

"My niece is here," I said.

"There is no one but yourself and your niece?"

"My nephew." I had to moisten my lips.

"Oh, a nephew. I should like to see him, if he is here."

"He is not here just now," I said as quietly as I could. "I expect
him--at any time."

"He was here yesterday evening, I believe?"