noticeable
when I went to Turnbull's aid, and I concluded then that he had some
heart trouble and had inhaled the drug to ward off an attack. It bears
out Mr. Rochester's theory of death from angina pectoris."

"I see. Thank you, doctor. Please wait with the other witnesses; we may
call you again," and with a sigh the busy physician resigned himself to
spending another hour in the room reserved for the witnesses.

The next to take the witness stand was Deputy Marshal Grant. His
testimony was short and concise,--and his description of the scene in
the police court preceding Turnbull's death was listened to with deep
attention by every one.

"Did the prisoner show any symptoms of illness before his heart attack?"
asked Penfield.

"Not exactly illness," replied Grant slowly. "I noticed he didn't move
very quickly; sort of shambled, as if he was weak in his legs. I've
seen 'drunk and disorderlies' act just that way, and paid no particular
attention to him. He did ask for a drink of water just after he returned
to the cage."

"Did you give it to him?"

"No, an attendant gave the glass to Mr. Rochester who handed it to Mr.
Turnbull."

Penfield regarded Grant in silence for a minute. "That is all," he
announced, and with a polite bow the deputy marshal withdrew.

Detective Ferguson recognized Kent as he passed up the room to the
platform and gave him a slight bow and smile, but the smile had
disappeared when, at the coroner's request, he told of his arrival just
after the discovery of the burglar's identity.

"I searched the cage where the prisoner had been seated and found this
handkerchief," he went on to say. "It had been dropped by Turnbull and
was saturated with amyl nitrite. I had it examined by a chemist, who
said that this amyl nitrite was given to patients with heart trouble
in little pearl capsules to be crushed in handkerchiefs and the fumes
inhaled.

"The chemist also told me that"--the detective spoke with impressive
seriousness, "judging from the number of particles of capsules adhering
to the linen, more than one capsule had been crushed by Turnbull. Here
is the handkerchief," and he laid it on the table with great care.

Kent's heart sank; the moment he had dreaded all that long afternoon had
come. Penfield inspected the handkerchief with interest, and then passed
it to the jurors, cautioning them to handle it carefully.

"I note," he stated, turning again to Detective Ferguson, "that it is a
wo