and kidding him about quitting so early."
"Did he return?"
"I don't think so; I didn't see him."
"Can anyone reach the tenth floor from the street without passing the elevator?"
"No. The elevators are between the door and the stairways on the main floor."
"Until what time does the starter remain in the hall on the main floor?"
"About six o'clock; nearly all the tenants are out of the building by then."
"When do the elevator men quit?"
"All but one quit at six; he stays until seven."
"What happens then?"
"The night watchman comes on and locks the front door. He runs the elevator for anybody that wants to go up or down at night."
"Who was on duty between six and seven on June 30th?"
"I was."
"Did the defendant return to the building that day?"
"Yes."
As the witness spoke I heard the prisoner, who had sat with his head resting in his hands during the testimony, say softly to himself, "To apologize for my hasty temper, thank God!"
"At what time did he return?" continued the attorney.
"A few minutes after six."
"Was Roy Bland alive at that time?"
"He opened the door of his office just as my car reached his floor."
"Who else were in the building at that time?"
"A couple of girls on the eleventh floor,"
"What employes of the building?"
"Only myself and the women who do the cleaning."
"After the defendant left, did you remain in the hall on the ground floor?"
"I left it once just before seven o'clock to get the two young ladies on the eleventh."
"Did any one else enter or leave the building?"
"No."
"How long did the defendant remain in his brother's office?"
"Fifteen or twenty minutes."
"Did you see Roy Bland in life afterward?"
"No."
Major Rankin then began the cross examination. I am a firm believer in the theory that a witness should never be cross examined without, a definite purpose, and this case did nothing to shake that belief.
The Major, evidently grasping at the proverbial straw, tried his utmost to entangle the witness and induce him to contradict himself, but without success; he stood the gruelling patiently and even seemed to wish he could say something favorable, all of which merely served to strengthen his testimony and leave an impression on the jury that was very bad for the prisoner.
MRS. SMALL, the woman who cleaned the offices on that floor, was then called to the stand. She stated that at about half past seven she had opened the door with her master key—she was positive that the door was locked—and had entered Mr. Bland's office and switched on the lights and found Mr. Bland lying dead in front of the open safe in the inner office.
On the floor beside him, she said, lay a large iron clock which usually stood upon the safe. The clock was still running, as she distinctly remembered hearing its ticking in the moment of silence that followed her startling discovery. She then called the night watchman and gave the alarm.
The rest of the testimony was corroborative of Mrs. Small and included that of the physician who had examined the body. In the opinion of the latter, death had been produced by a blow upon the head from some blunt instrument, probably the clock. The injury could not have been self-inflicted by accidentally pulling down the clock, said the doctor, as the height of the safe was not great enough.
The case was then adjourned to the following day and I had an opportunity of consulting with the client, to whom I was duly introduced by Major Rankin. My sympathy for him was very much increased by this interview. He seemed greatly distressed by the loss of his brother and as ignorant as to its cause as was I.
He had called on his brother, he said, on a matter of business, had disagreed with him, lost his temper and quarreled. Later he had returned and made his peace and they had parted in excellent spirits. His brother's inheritance had not been mentioned; he knew he would have received a fare share of it although he had not been mentioned in the will, as his brother, who had always been more successful in business than he, was very liberal with him.
I regretted exceedingly that I had not been engaged on the case before. Having at that time, as I before intimated, considerable faith in my ability to solve such puzzles I wanted time to make my own investigation. Perhaps by working fast, I thought, I might learn enough to secure a new trial, and that might give me time to clear up the mystery. What a feather in my cap!
And how glad I would be to liberate this poor fellow, who I was sure was innocent and who seemed to be without money and without friends—except my visitor of the night before. And then I wondered why his brother had not been in the court room. In the excitement of the trial I had completely forgotten him.
So I pondered and dreamed on until midnight found me once more seated at my table in my dismal old office, in a silence broken only by the fluttering wings of a huge moth that had wandered in from the trees of the neighboring churchyard and with aimless energy was darting hither and thither about the room.
And once more I looked up and found my eccentric visitor standing before me.
BEFORE I could speak he addressed me; his voice was so low that I had to ask him to repeat his words before I understood that he was quoting a name.
"Miss Susie Elkins?" I responded inquiringly.
He nodded and motioned to a writing-pad on the table, from which I gathered that I was to take notes of what he would tell me. I took up a pencil and scribbled the name.
In making a dash at the end to represent a period—a habit with many who write rapidly—I broke the point of the pencil.
with a word of apology, I turned to a sharpener affixed to the wall, and ground a new point on the pencil.
When I again turned around I was astonished to find that I was alone!
I went to the door and looked into the I hall, but my visitor was nowhere in sight. For a moment I was at a loss to account for his silent departure, but it occurred to me that the whir of the pencil sharpener might readily have I prevented my hearing the creaking of the stairs.
But why should he have departed in such a manner?
The more I pondered over the case the more confused I felt over the whole mysterious affair. At last a very simple solution occurred to me: it was just a case of mistaken identity.
This man, my caller—whose resemblance to Egbert was remarkable—was the guilty man. He did not wish to see his brother convicted and was endeavoring to point a way to me to confuse the case and secure Egbert's acquittal, with-
