Evidently not; for the next words I heard were: "Miss Amelia Butterworth!"  
I had not expected to be called so soon, and was somewhat flustered¹ by the suddenness of the summons, for I am only human. But I rose with suitable composure, and passed to the place indicated by the Coroner, in my usual straightforward² manner, heightened only by a sense of the importance of my position, both as a witness and a woman whom the once famous Mr. Gryce had taken more or less into his confidence.
 
My appearance seemed to awaken³ an interest for which I was not prepared. I was just thinking how well my name had sounded uttered in the sonorous⁴ tones of the Coroner, and how grateful I ought to be for the courage I had displayed in substituting the genteel name of Amelia for the weak and sentimental⁵ one of Araminta, when I became conscious that the eyes directed towards me were filled with an expression not easy to understand. I should not like to call it admiration⁶ and will not call it amusement, and yet it seemed to be made up of both. While I was puzzling myself over it, the first question came.
 
As my examination before the Coroner only brought out the facts already related, I will not burden you[Pg 89] with a detailed⁷ account of it. One portion alone may be of interest. I was being questioned in regard to the appearance of the couple I had seen entering the Van Burnam mansion⁸, when the Coroner asked if the young woman's step was light, or if it betrayed hesitation⁹.
 
I replied: "No hesitation; she moved quickly, almost gaily¹⁰."
 
"And he?"
 
"Was more moderate; but there is no signification in that; he may have been older."
 
"No theories, Miss Butterworth; it is facts we are after. Now, do you know that he was older?"
 
"No, sir."
 
"Did you get any idea as to his age?"
 
"The impression he made was that of being a young man."
 
"And his height?"
 
"Was medium, and his figure slight and elegant. He moved as a gentleman moves; of this I can speak with great positiveness."
 
"Do you think you could identify him, Miss Butterworth, if you should see him?"
 
I hesitated, as I perceived that the whole swaying mass eagerly awaited my reply. I even turned my head because I saw others doing so; but I regretted this when I found that I, as well as others, was glancing towards the door beyond which the Van Burnams were supposed to sit. To cover up the false move I had made—for I had no wish as yet to centre suspicion upon anybody—I turned my face quickly back to the crowd and declared in as emphatic¹¹ a tone as I could command:
 
"I have thought I could do so if I saw him under[Pg 90] the same circumstances as those in which my first impression was made. But lately I have begun to doubt even that. I should never dare trust to my memory in this regard."
 
The Coroner looked disappointed, and so did the people around me.
 
"It is a pity," remarked the Coroner, "that you did not see more plainly. And, now, how did these persons gain an entrance into the house?"
 
I answered in the most succinct¹³ way possible.
 
I told them how he had used a door-key in entering, of the length of time the man stayed inside, and of his appearance on going away. I also related how I came to call a policeman to investigate the matter next day, and corroborated¹⁴ the statements of this official as to the appearance of the deceased at time of discovery.
 
And there my examination stopped. I was not asked any questions tending to bring out the cause of the suspicion I entertained against the scrub-woman, nor were the discoveries I had made in conjunction with Mr. Gryce inquired into. It was just as well, perhaps, but I would never approve of a piece of work done for me in this slipshod fashion.
 
A recess¹⁵ now followed. Why it was thought necessary, I cannot imagine, unless the gentlemen wished to smoke. Had they felt as much interest in this murder as I did, they would not have wanted bite or sup till the dreadful question was settled. There being a recess, I improved the opportunity by going into a restaurant near by where one can get very good buns and coffee at a reasonable price. But I could have done without them.
 
The next witness, to my astonishment¹⁶, was Mr.[Pg 91] Gryce. As he stepped forward, heads were craned and many women rose in their seats to get a glimpse of the noted¹⁷ detective. I showed no curiosity myself, for by this time I knew his features well, but I did feel a great satisfaction in seeing him before the Coroner, for now, thought I, we shall hear something worth our attention.
 
But his examination, though interesting, was not complete. The Coroner, remembering his promise to show us the other end of the steel point which had been broken off in the dead girl's brain, limited himself to such inquiries¹⁸ as brought out the discovery of the broken hat-pin in Mr. Van Burnam's parlor¹⁹ register. No mention was made by the witness of any assistance which he may have received in making this discovery; a fact which caused me to smile: men are so jealous of any interference in their affairs.
 
The end found in the register and the end which the Coroner's physician had drawn²⁰ from the poor woman's head were both handed to the jury, and it was interesting to note how each man made his little effort to fit the two ends together, and the looks they interchanged as they found themselves successful. Without doubt, and in the eyes of all, the instrument of death had been found. But what an instrument!
 
The felt hat which had been discovered under the body was now produced and the one hole made by a similar pin examined. Then Mr. Gryce was asked if any other pin had been picked up from the floor of the room, and he replied, no; and the fact was established in the minds of all present that the young woman had been killed by a pin taken from her own hat.
 
"A subtle and cruel crime; the work of a calculating intellect," was the Coroner's comment as he allowed[Pg 92] the detective to sit down. Which expression of opinion I thought reprehensible²¹, as tending to prejudice the jury against the only person at present suspected.
 
The inquiry²² now took a turn. The name of Miss Ferguson was called. Who was Miss Ferguson? It was a new name to most of us, and her face when she rose only added to the general curiosity. It was the plainest face imaginable, yet it was neither a bad nor unintelligent one. As I studied it and noted the nervous contraction²³ that disfigured her lip, I could not but be sensible of my blessings²⁴. I am not handsome myself, though there have been persons who have called me so, but neither am I ugly, and in contrast to this woman—well, I will say nothing. I only know that, after seeing her, I felt profoundly grateful to a kind Providence²⁵.
 
As for the poor woman herself, she knew she was no beauty, but she had become so accustomed to seeing the eyes of other people turn away from her face, that beyond the nervous twitching²⁶ of which I have spoken, she showed no feeling.
 
"What is your full name, and where do you live?" asked the Coroner.
 
"My name is Susan Ferguson, and I live in Haddam, Connecticut," was her reply, uttered in such soft and beautiful tones that every one was astonished. It was like a stream of limpid²⁸ water flowing from a most unsightly-looking rock. Excuse the metaphor²⁹; I do not often indulge.
 
"Do you keep boarders?"
 
"I do; a few, sir; such as my house will accommodate."
 
"Whom have you had with you this summer?"[Pg 93]
 
I knew what her answer would be before she uttered it; so did a hundred others, but they showed their knowledge in different ways. I did not show mine at all.
 
"I have had with me," said she, "a Mr. and Mrs. Van Burnam from New York. Mr. Howard Van Burnam is hi............