questions pat.

The gentleman was a stranger, yes--that she understood. But what
had he said? And, above all, what had he looked like? The first
question was easily enough answered, for the disconcerting reason
that he had said so little--had merely asked for Mr. Boyne, and,
scribbling something on a bit of paper, had requested that it
should at once be carried in to him.

"Then you don't know what he wrote? You're not sure it WAS his
name?"

The kitchen-maid was not sure, but supposed it was, since he had
written it in answer to her inquiry as to whom she should
announce.

"And when you carried the paper in to Mr. Boyne, what did he
say?"

The kitchen-maid did not think that Mr. Boyne had said anything,
but she could not be sure, for just as she had handed him the
paper and he was opening it, she had become aware that the
visitor had followed her into the library, and she had slipped
out, leaving the two gentlemen together.

"But then, if you left them in the library, how do you know that
they went out of the house?"

This question plunged the witness into momentary
inarticulateness, from which she was rescued by Trimmle, who, by