Part 6 (1/2)
”Were you acquainted with her mother?”
”No, I was not,” he replied after a moment's reflection.
”And you have no suggestion to make, I suppose, regarding any person who might have entertained ill-will towards the unfortunate girl?” inquired the grey-haired Coroner.
”None whatever.”
”When did you last see her alive?”
”On Monday evening, when she accompanied a visitor to the station to see him off on his return to London. She rode her cycle, and announced her intention of going on to Burghfield to make a purchase. She was found later on,” he added, hoa.r.s.ely.
”Who was this visitor? What was his name?”
”He was a friend, but I decline to give his name publicly,” the Captain replied firmly. ”I will, however, write it for your information, if you desire,” and taking a pencil from his pocket he wrote the name of Prince Zertho d'Auzac and handed it to the Coroner.
The eager onlookers were disappointed. They had expected some sensational developments, but it seemed as though the crime was too enshrouded in mystery to prove of any very real interest. They did not, however, fail to notice that when the Coroner read what the Captain had written, an expression of astonishment crossed his face.
”Are you certain that the--this gentleman--left by the train he went to catch?” he asked.
”Quite,” answered Brooker. ”Not only have the police made inquiry at my instigation, but I have also accompanied a detective to London, where we found my visitor. Inspector Swayne, as a result of his investigations, was entirely satisfied.”
”Had the unfortunate young lady any admirer?”
”I think not.”
”Then you can tell us absolutely nothing further?” observed the Coroner, toying with his quill.
”Unfortunately I cannot.”
The Captain, after signing his depositions, was directed to one of a row of empty chairs near the Coroner's table, and his daughter was called.
Liane, pale and nervous, neatly dressed in black, entered quietly, removed her right glove, and took the oath. Having given her name, the Coroner asked,--
”When did you last see the deceased, Miss Brooker?”
”When she set out to go to the railway station,” she answered, in a low faltering voice.
”Have you any idea why she should have gone to Cross Lane? It was entirely out of her way home from Burghfield to Stratfield Mortimer, was it not?”
”I cannot tell,” Liane replied. ”We went along that road on our cycles only on one occasion, and found it so rough that we agreed never to attempt it again.”
”I presume, Miss Brooker, that the deceased was your most intimate friend?” observed the Coroner. ”She would therefore be likely to tell you if she had a lover. Were you aware of the existence of any such person?”
”No,” she replied, flus.h.i.+ng slightly and glancing slowly around the hot, crowded room.
”You had a visitor whose name your father has just given me upon this paper,” observed the Coroner. ”Was that visitor known to the deceased?”
The eyes of the father and daughter met for a single instant as she glanced around upon the long lines of expectant countenances.
”Oh, yes,” she replied. ”The gentleman who came unexpectedly to see us has been known to us all for fully five or six years.”