e handy-man instantly shifted his gaze. But the
prosecuting attorney's first questions served to give Joe a measure of
ease; this was transitory, however, as he seemed to stand alone in the
presence of some imminent personal danger when Moxlow asked:

"Where were you on the night of the twenty-seventh of November at six
o'clock?"

Joe stole a haunted glance in the direction of Gilmore. Moxlow repeated
his question.

"Boss, I was in White's woodshed," answered Montgomery.

"Tell the jury what you saw," said Moxlow.

"Well, I seen a good deal," evaded the handy-man, shaking his great
head.

"Go on!" urged Moxlow impatiently.

"It was this way," said Joe. "I was lookin' out into the alley through a
crack in the small door where they put in the coal; right across the
alley is the back of McBride's store and the sheds about his yard--"
the handy-man paused and mopped his face with his ragged cap.

At the opposite end of the room Gilmore placed a hand on Langham's arm.
The lawyer had uttered a smothered exclamation and had made a movement
as if about to quit his seat. The gambler pushed him back.

"Sit tight, Marsh!" he muttered between his teeth.

Mr. Montgomery, taking stock of his courage, prepared to adventure
further with his testimony.

"All at once as I stood by that door lookin' out into the alley, I heard
a kind of noise in old man McBride's yard. It sounded like something
heavy was bein' scraped across the frozen ground, say a box or barrel.
Then I seen a man's derby hat come over the edge of the shed, and next
the man who was under that hat drawed himself up; he come up slow and
cautious until he was where he could throw himself over on to the roof.
He done that, squatted low, and slid down the roof toward the alley.
There was some snow and he slid easy. He was lookin' about all the time
like he wasn't anxious to be seen. Well, boss, he never seen me, and he
never seen no one else, so he dropped off, kind of givin' himself a
shove out from the eaves, and fetched up against White's woodshed. He
was pantin' like he'd run a mile, and I heard him say in a whisper, 'Oh,
my God!'--just like that,--'Oh, my God!'" The handy-man paused with this
grotesque mimicry of terror.

"And then?" prompted Moxlow, in the breathless silence.

"And then he took off up the alley as if all hell was whoopin' after
him!"

Again Montgomery's ragged cap served him in lieu of a handkerchief, and
as he swabbed his blotched and