"Yes, sir," with a little quaver of dissent in the assertion, however.
"Not a shadow lay between him and any other member of his household, so far as you know?"
"I am not ready to say that," he returned, quite distressed. "A shadow is a very slight thing. There might have been a shadow"
"Between him and whom?"
A long hesitation. "One of his nieces, sir."
"Which one?"
Again that defiant lift of the head. "Miss Eleanore."
"How long has this shadow been observable?"
"I cannot say."
"You do not know the cause?"
"I do not."
"Nor the extent of the feeling?"
"No, sir."
"You open Mr. Leavenworth’s letters?"
"I do."
"Has there been anything in his correspondence of late calculated to throw any light upon this deed?"
It actually seemed as if he never would answer. Was he simply pondering over his reply, or was the man turned to stone?
"Mr. Harwell, did you hear the juryman?" inquired the coroner.
"Yes, sir; I was thinking."
"Very well, now answer."
"Sir," he replied, turning and looking the juryman full in the face, and in that way revealing his unguarded left hand to my gaze, "I have opened Mr. Leavenworth's letters as usual for the last two weeks,
