Probably she realized at this moment,
if not before, that the coroner and jury had ample excuse for
mistrusting one who had been so unmistakably caught in a
prevarication; possibly her regret carried her far enough to wish
she had not disdained all legal advice from those who had so
earnestly offered it. But though she showed alike her shame and
her disheartenment, she did not give up the struggle.
"If I went into the house," she said, "it was not to enter that room.
I had too great a dread of it. If I rested my head against the wall
it was in terror of that shot. It came so suddenly and was so
frightful, so much more frightful than anything you can conceive."
"Then you did enter the house?"
"I did."
"And it was while you were inside, instead of outside, that you
heard the shot?"
"I must admit that, too. I was at the library door."
"You acknowledge that?"
"I do."
"But you did not enter the library?"
"No, not then; not till I was taken back by the officer who told me
of my sister's death"
"We are glad to hear this precise statement from you. It encourages
me to ask again the nature of the freak which took you into this
house. You say that it was not from any dread on your sister's
account? What, then, was it? No evasive answer will satisfy us,
Miss Tuttle.
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