spectators. But no protest disturbed Coroner Z. He had his reasons,
no doubt, for thus trying this witness, and when Coroner Z. had
reason for anything it took more than the displeasure of the crowd
to deter him.

Mr. Jeffrey, who had subdued whatever indignation he may have felt
at this unmistakable proof of the coroner's intention to have his
own way with him whatever the cost to his sensitiveness or pride,
obeyed the latter's command in firmer tones than I expected.

The lines he was thus called upon to read may bear repetition:

"I find that I do not love you as I thought. I can not live knowing
this to be so. Pray God you may forgive me!

VERONICA."


As the last word fell with a little tremble from Mr. Jeffrey's lips,
the coroner repeated:

"You still think these words were addressed to you by your wife;
that in short they contain an explanation of her death?"

"I do"

There was sharpness in the tone. Mr. Jeffrey was feeling the prick.
There was agitation in it, too; an agitation he was trying hard to
keep down.