young man, Doctor Leonard was middle aged, of a crusty disposition and curt speech.
When he came, Doctor Hills presented him to the ladies, and before he had time to introduce the two men, Doctor Leonard said crossly, "Put the women out. I cannot conduct this affair with petticoats and hysterics around me."
Though not meant to reach the ears of the ladies, the speech was fairly audible, and with a trace of indignation Miss Morton arose and left the room. Mrs. Markham followed her, and Cicely went also.
Doctor Leonard closed the library doors, and, turning to Doctor Hills, asked for a concise statement of what had happened.
In his straightforward manner Doctor Hills gave him a brief outline of the case, including all the necessary details.
"And yet," he concluded, "even in the face of that written message, I cannot think it a suicide."
"Of course it's a suicide," declared Doctor Leonard in his blustering way; "there is no question whatever. That written confession which you all declare to be in her handwriting is ample proof that the girl killed herself. Of course you had to send for me—the stupid old laws of New Jersey make it imperative that I shall be dragged out many miles away from my home for every death that isn't in conventional death-bed fashion; but there is no suspicion of foul play here. The poor girl chose to kill herself, and she has done so with the means which she found near at hand. I will write the burial certificate and leave it with you. There is no occasion for the coroner."
"Thank God for that!" exclaimed Schuyler Carleton, in a fervent tone.
"Amen," said Tom. "It's dreadful enough to think of poor Maddy as she is, but had it been any one else who—"
Unheeding the ejaculations of the two men, Doctor Hills said earnestly, "But, Doctor, if it had not been for the written paper, would you have called it suicide?"
"That has nothing to do with the case," declared Doctor Leonard testily; "The paper is there, and is authentic. No sane man could doubt that it is a suicide after that."
"But, Doctor Leonard, it would seem impossible for a woman to stab herself at that angle, and with such an astonishing degree of force; also to pull the dagger from the wound, cast it on the floor, and then to place her arm in that particular position on the table."
"Why do you say in that particular position?"
"Because the position of her right arm is as if thrown there carelessly, and not as if flung there in a death agony."
"You are imaginative, Doctor Hills. The facts may not seem possible, but since they are the facts you must admit that they are possible."
"Very well, Doctor Leonard, I accept your decision, and I relinquish all professional responsibility in the matter."
"You may do so. There is no occasion for mystery or question. It is a sad affair, indeed, but no crime is indicated beyond that of self-destruction. The written confession hints at the motive for the deed, but that is outside my jurisdiction. Who is the man in the hall? I fancied him a detective."
"He is; that is, he is a man from headquarters who is here to watch over the bridal gifts. He came downstairs thinking we might require his services in another way."
"Send him back to his post. There is no work for detectives, just because a young girl chose to end her unhappy life."
Doctor Hills opened the library door and directed Hunt to return to his place in the present room.
Doctor Leonard, still with his harsh and disagreeable manner, advised Willard and Carleton to go to their homes, saying he and Doctor Hills would remain in charge of the library for the rest of the night.
Doctor Hills found the women in the drawingroom, awaiting such message as Doctor Leonard might have for them. Doctor Hills told them all that Doctor Leonard had said, and advised them to retire, as the next day would be indeed a difficult and sorrowful one.
Chapter V.
A Case for the Coroner
It was characteristic of Miss Morton that she went straight to her own room and shut the door. Mrs. Markham, on the other hand, went to the room occupied by Kitty French. Molly Gardner was there, too, and the two girls, robed in kimonas, were sitting, white-faced and tearful-eyed, waiting for some further news from the room whence they had been banished.
Mrs. Markham told them what Doctor Leonard had said, but Kitty French broke out impetuously, "Madeleine never killed herself, never! I know she always said that about the dagger, but she never really meant it, and any way she never would have done it the night before her wedding. I tell you she didn't do it! It was some horrid burglar who came in to steal her presents, who killed her."
"I would almost rather it had been so, Kitty dear," said Mrs. Markham, gently stroking the brow of the excited girl; "but it could not have been, for we have very strong locks and bolts against burglars, and Harris is very careful in his precautions for our safety."
"I don't care! Maddy never killed herself. She wouldn't do it, I know her too well. Oh, dear! now there won't be any wedding at all! Isn't it dreadful to think of that decorated room, and the bower we planned for the bride!"
At these thoughts Kitty's tears began to flow afresh, and Molly, who was already limp from weeping, joined her.
"There, there," said Mrs. Markham, gently patting Molly's shoulder. "Don't cry so, dearie. It can't do any good, and you'll just make yourself ill."
"But I don't understand," said Molly, as she mopped her eyes with her wet ball of a handkerchief; "why did she kill herself?"
"I don't know," said Mrs. Markham, but her expression seemed to betoken a sad suspicion.
"She didn't kill herself," reiterated Kitty. "I stick to that, but if she did, I know why."
This feminine absence of logic was unremarked by her hearers, who both said, "Why?"
"Because Schuyler didn't love her enough," said Kitty earnestly. "She just worshipped him, and he used to care more for her, but lately he hasn't."
"How do you know?" asked Molly.
"Oh, Madeleine didn't tell me," returned Kitty. "I just gathered it. I've been here 'most a week— you know I came several days before you did, Molly—and I've noticed her a lot. Oh, I don't mean I spied on her, or anything horrid. Only, I couldn't help seeing that she wished Mr. Carleton would be more attentive."
"Why, I thought he was awfully attentive," said Molly.
"Oh, attentive, yes. I don't exactly mean that. But there was something lacking,—don't you think so, Mrs. Markham?"
"Yes, Kitty, I do think so. In fact, I know that Mr. Carleton didn't give Madeleine the heart-whole affection that she gave him. But I hoped it would all turn out right, and I surely never dreamed it was such a serious matter as to bring Madeleine to this. But she was a reserved, proud nature, and if she thought Mr. Carleton had ceased to love her, I know she would far rather die than marry him."
"But she
