The Diamond Pin. Wells Carolyn

sir," asseverated Purdy, solemnly. "I ain't no doctor, but I made sure she was dead. She'd died within a minute or so, she was most as warm as in life, and the blood was still a flowin' from her head where she was struck."

      "Did you move anything in the room?"

      "No, sir, only so much as was necessary to get around. The table that was upset had a 'lectric lamp on it, which had a long danglin' green cord, 'cause it was put in after the reg'lar wirin' was done. I coiled up that 'ere cord, and picked up the pieces of broken glass, so's we could step around. But I left the bag and pocket-book and all, just where they was flung. And the litter from the desk, all over the floor, I didn't touch that, neither – nor I didn't touch the body."

      Purdy's voice faltered and his old eyes filled with tears.

      "You did well," commended the coroner, nodding his head kindly at him, "just one more question. Was Mrs. Pell in her usual good spirits yesterday? Did she do anything or say anything that seemed out of the ordinary?"

      "No," and Purdy shook his head. "I don't think so, do you, Polly?"

      "Not that I noticed," said his wife. "She cut up an awful trick on Miss Iris, but that wasn't to say unusual."

      "What was it?" and the coroner listened to an account of the date with ink in it. The story was told by Mrs. Bowen, as Iris refused to talk at all.

      "A pretty mean trick," was the coroner's opinion. "Didn't you resent it, Miss Clyde?"

      "She did not," spoke up the rector, in a decided way. "Miss Clyde is a young woman of too much sense and also of too much affection for her dear aunt, to resent a good-humored jest – "

      "Good-humored jest!" exclaimed Hughes. "Going some! a jest like that – spoilin' a young girl's pretty Sunday frock – "

      "Never mind, Hughes," reproved Timken, "we're not judging Mrs. Pell's conduct now. This is an investigation, a preliminary inquiry, rather, but not a judgment seat. Miss Clyde, I must ask that you answer me a few questions. You left your aunt's presence directly after your guests had departed?"

      "Within a few moments of their leaving."

      "She was then in her usual health and good spirits?"

      "So far as I know."

      "Any conversation passed between you?'

      "Only a little."

      "Amicable?'

      "What do you mean by that?"

      "Friendly – affectionate – not quarrelsome."

      "It was not exactly affectionate, as I told her I was displeased at her spoiling my gown."

      "Ah. And what did she say?"

      "That she would buy me another."

      "Did that content you?"

      "I wasn't discontented. I was annoyed at her unkind trick, and I told her so. That is all."

      "Of course that is all," again interrupted Mr. Bowen. "I can answer for the cordial relationship between aunt and niece and I can vouch for the fact that these merry jests didn't really stir up dissension between these two estimable people. Why, only to-day, Mrs. Pell was dilating on the wonderful legacies she meant to bestow on Miss Clyde. She also referred to a jeweled chalice for my church, but I am sure these remarks were in no way prompted by any thought of immediate death. On the contrary, she was in gayer spirits than I have ever seen her."

      "I think she was over-excited," said Mrs. Bowen, thoughtfully. "Don't you, Iris? She was giggling in an almost hysterical manner, it seemed to me."

      "I didn't notice," said Iris, wearily. "Aunt Ursula was a creature of moods. She was grave or gay without apparent reason. I put up with her silly jokes usually, but to-day's performance seemed unnecessary and unkind. However, it doesn't matter now."

      "No," declared Winston Bannard, "and it does no good to rake over the old lady's queer ways. We all know about her habit of playing tricks, and I, for one, don't wonder that Polly thought she screamed out to trick somebody. Nor does it matter. If Polly hadn't thought that, she couldn't have done any more than she did do to get into that room as soon as possible. Could she, now?"

      "No," agreed the coroner. "Nor does it really affect our problem of how the murder was committed."

      "Let me have a look into that room," said Bannard, suddenly.

      "You a detective?" asked Timken.

      "Not a bit of it, but I want to see its condition."

      "Come on in," said the other. "They've put Mrs. Pell's body on the couch, but, except for that, nothing's been touched."

      Hughes went in with Bannard and the coroner, and the three men were joined by Lawyer Chapin.

      Silently they took in the details. The still figure on the couch, with face solemnly covered, seemed to make conversation undesirable.

      Hughes alertly moved about peering at things but touching almost nothing. Bannard and Mr. Chapin stood motionless gazing at the evidences of crime.

      "Got a cigarette?" whispered Hughes to Bannard and mechanically the young man took out his case and offered it. The detective took one and then continued his minute examination of the room and its appointments.

      At last he sat down in front of the desk and began to look through such papers as remained in place. There were many pigeonholes and compartments, which held small memorandum books and old letters and stationery.

      Hughes opened and closed several books, and then suddenly turned to Bannard with this question.

      "You haven't been up here to-day, have you, Mr. Bannard? I mean, before you came up this evening."

      "N-no, certainly not," was the answer, and the man looked decidedly annoyed. "What are you getting at, Mr. Hughes?"

      "Oh, nothing. Where have you been all day, Mr. Bannard?"

      "In New York city.'

      "Not been out of it?"

      "I went out this morning for a bicycle ride, my favorite form of exercise. Am I being quizzed?"

      "You are. You state that you were not up here, in this room, this afternoon, about three o'clock?"

      "I certainly do affirm that! Why?"

      "Because I observe here on the desk a half-smoked cigarette of the same kind you just gave me.

      "And you think that is incriminating evidence! A little far-fetched, Mr. Hughes."

      "Also, on this chair is a New York paper of to-day's date, and not the one that is usually taken in this house."

      "Indeed!" but Winston Bannard had turned pale.

      "And," continued Hughes, holding up a check-book, "this last stub in Mrs. Pell's check-book shows that she made out to you to-day, a check for five thousand dollars!"

      "What!" cried Mr. Chapin.

      "Yes, sir, a check stub, in Mrs. Pell's own writing, dated to-day! Where is that check, Mr. Winston Bannard, and when did you get it? And why did you kill your aunt afterward? What were you searching this room for? Come, sir, speak up!"

      CHAPTER IV

      TIMKEN AND HIS INQUIRIES

      "You must be out of your mind, Mr. Hughes," said Bannard; but, as a matter of fact, he looked more as if he himself were demented. His face wore a wild, frightened expression, and his fingers twitched nervously, as he picked at the edge of his coat. "Of course, I haven't been up here to-day, before I came this evening. That New York Herald was never in my possession. Because I live in New York City, I'm not the only one who reads the 'Herald.'"

      "But your aunt subscribed only to The Times. Where did that 'Herald' come from?"

      "I'm sure I don't know. It must have been left here by somebody – I suppose – "

      "And this half-burnt cigarette, of the same brand as those you have in your pocket case?"

      "Other men smoke those, too, I assume."

      "Well,