And yet Mrs. Pierce was a bit mysterious also. If I could read
her face aright, it bore the expression of one who would stand by
her friend whatever might come. If she herself had had doubts of
Florence Lloyd's integrity, but was determined to suppress them
and swear to a belief in her, she would look just as she did now.

On the other hand the butler, Lambert, who stood with folded
arms, gazed straight ahead with an inscrutable countenance, but
his set lips and square jaw betokened decision.

As I read it, Miss Lloyd knew, as she looked, that should she
tell an untruth about that talk at the dinner-table, Mrs. Pierce
would repeat and corroborate her story; but Lambert would refute
her, and would state veraciously what his master had said.
Clearly, it was useless to attempt a false report, and, with a
little sigh, Miss Lloyd seemed to resign herself to her fate, and
calmly awaited the coroner's further questions.

But though still calm, she had lost her poise to some degree.
The lack of responsive glances from Gregory Hall's eyes seemed to
perplex her. The eager interest of the six jurymen made her
restless and embarrassed. The coroner's abrupt questions
frightened her, and I feared her self-enforced calm must sooner
or later give way.

And now I noticed that Louis, the valet, was again darting those
uncontrollable glances toward her. And as the agitated Frenchman
endeavored to control his own countenance, I chanced to observe
that the pretty-faced maid I had noticed before, was staring
fixedly at Louis. Surely there were wheels within wheels, and