The girl glanced at the envelope and then at her employer and blushed deeply.

"Oh, why that--that is a note from a friend of mine."

"A gentleman friend, I suppose."

"Yes, Uncle Adam. I met him last winter, at Mrs. Dally's reception.

He is a traveling salesman for this house," she pointed to the notice on the envelope. "He wants me to go to the theatre with him, and I expect to go. Mrs. Dally says he is a very nice young man. We--we have been out a number of times." And the girl blushed again.

"I know some parties connected with that firm. What's the young man's name, Letty?"

"Mr. Tom Ostrello."

"Indeed! And he has invited you to go to the theatre with him?"

"Yes. Then you know him, Uncle Adam? I didn't dream of that. Don't you think he is--is rather nice?"

"Evidently you think so." For some reason the detective could scarcely steady his voice. He was a bachelor, with only some distant relatives, and he thought a good deal of his protegee and her welfare.

"I--I do, Uncle Adam. He treats me so nicely. I--I--don't you approve of him?" she went on hastily, searching his face for the smile that usually rested there when he spoke to her.

"Why, I--er--I don't know him so well as all that, Letty." For the first time in his life he was visibly confused. "You say he has called on you a number of times?"

"Yes, and he has taken me out, let me see, I guess it must be a dozen times all told. I--I wanted to speak of this before, but I--well, I couldn't bring it around. I hope you'll approve, Uncle Adam."

"Approve? Of your going out with him?"

"Yes, and--and--" The girl hesitated again. Then she arose and buried her face on his shoulder. "Oh! don't you understand, Uncle Adam?"

"Letty!"

"He is very nice--I know you'll like him when you get to really know him. Of course he hasn't much money, but I don't care for that. You always said money didn't count for so much anyway--that it was character--and he's got that."

"Hum!" For the life of him Adam Adams could not speak. He felt himself growing hot and cold by turns. He caught the girl closer.

Never had he loved his friend's daughter so much as now.

"I hoped you would approve," she went on, shyly. "I--of course I didn't want to leave you--you've been so very good to me since papa and mamma died. But--but Tom doesn't seem to want to wait. He has asked me twice now and--and--I don't know how I am going to put him off. He seems so miserable when I say wait."

"Asked you to marry him?"

"Yes."

"And he wants you to go to the theatre with him--now?"

"The invitation is for to-night--he sent it last week. He has been traveling out of town, but he said he would be back some time to-day.

I want you to meet him." She paused. "Isn't it all right, Uncle Adam?"

He did not answer, and she gazed at him curiously. Then the look in his face made her draw back, slowly and uncertainly. At that moment he felt that the occupation of a detective was the most detestable in the world.

"You--you know something?" she gasped. "Oh, Uncle Adam, what is it?"

CHAPTER XI

AT THE CORONER'S INQUEST

Sidham was in a state of keen excitement. No such mystery as the double tragedy had occurred in that neighborhood before, and all of the inhabitants were anxious to hear the latest news and learn what the coroner and the police were going to do. A hundred theories were afloat, all centering on the one object--to find the murderer.

"Find him or her, and swing him or her to the nearest tree," was the verdict of many. "The law is all well enough, but this dastardly crime demands an object lesson."

Coroner Jack Busby, who was a dealer in horses, had never had a murder case before, and was uncertain as to the method of procedure. But with the eyes of the whole community on him he realized his importance, as he ran hither and thither, to arrange for the inquest. He felt that his own little office was altogether too small for the occasion and so arranged to bring off the affair in the general courtroom.

The place was soon crowded with people, and another crowd gathered outside. The hour for opening the inquest was at hand and the majority of the witnesses were present. The coroner, short, fat and bald-headed, looked around anxiously and then turned to the chief of police, who was near at hand.

"I don't see Miss Langmore."

"Neither do I," answered the guardian of the law, with a shrug of his shoulders, as if it was none of his especial business,

"Yes, but--ahem! you are--ahem! responsible--"

"She'll be here, coroner, don't worry."

"You have had her properly guarded?"

"Yes. I reckon she's coming now," and the chief of police nodded towards a side door of the courtroom.

There was a slight commotion, and Margaret entered, escorted by Raymond Case, and followed by one of the women and the policeman who had been on guard at the Langmore mansion. The crowd arose to gaze at the girl and to pa.s.s various comments.

"Mighty pale, ain't she?"

"Wouldn't think a girl like that could do such an awful thing!"

"Humph! you can't tell about these high-toned folks. They'd do anything. Didn't one of them millionaires run over two of my hens with his automobile an' never stop to settle the damage? Don't tell me!"

"Yes, and she detested her step-mother--the hired girl told Mrs. Brown so, an' she told me."

"Well, Coroner Busby will git to the bottom of it putty quick. He told Lem Hansom he knew what he was doin'."

"He must know, if he's as slick at tryin' folks as he is in a hoss d.i.c.ker," returned an old farmer who had made a trade of steeds which had proved unprofitable for him.

Margaret was shown to a chair and sat down, with Raymond beside her.

The young man was plainly nervous, yet he did what he could to comfort his companion.

"Courage, Margaret," he whispered. "It is bound to come out right in the end."

"I can scarcely see a friendly face," she faltered, taking a shy look around. "They all think I am--" She could not finish, but had to bite her lip to keep the tears from flowing.

The coroner mounted the platform and rapped on a desk with his knuckles.