mply
and exactly as I could and trust to the plain, unvarnished truth to see
me out of my difficulties. I asked the detective upon our arrival if he
had received any word regarding Miss Temple, and he told me that she
would arrive during the forenoon. Major Temple and the servants were to
come into the town a little later, in time for the hearing, at which
they would be wanted as witnesses. I secured a morning paper and
resigned myself to a tedious wait of somewhat over two hours. I was
strangely calm and self-possessed. The ordeal through which I was about
to pass seemed to give me but slight concern. But for Miss Temple I
feared greatly.

CHAPTER X

MISS TEMPLE'S TESTIMONY

The police court at Exeter was situated in an old building, and the
Magistrate's room was small and cold. When I was led forth and placed in
the dock, I felt at first confused and gazed at the crowded benches
before me with a dull sense of annoyance. Presently I made out the
troubled, white face of Major Temple, sitting near the rear of the room,
and behind him Gibson and two of the other servants. The remainder of
the persons in the room were strangers to me, drawn thither, no doubt,
by the merest curiosity. I looked up at the Magistrate and found him to
be a little, red-faced man, with a stern, but not unkind, face--a man,
evidently, who had seen so much of human guilt and suffering that the
edge of his sympathies had been worn off and replaced with a patient
cynicism. The usual questions as to my name, age, residence and
occupation were asked, and then the real business of the hearing began.
The finding of the coroner's inquest was first read, and then Major
Temple was placed upon the witness stand. The old gentleman looked more
shrunken and old than ever. His face was yellow, his eyes hollow and
heavy from want of sleep, his hands trembling with excitement. I could
well understand his agitation. His daughter, even now under arrest, was
hurrying to Exeter to undergo that most terrible of all ordeals, a
hearing on a charge of murder. Whether or not her story would end in a
confession, no one knew; that she had something of the greatest import
to tell, her letter indicated. All these thoughts must have crowded
through her poor father's mind as he took his seat and made oath to tell
the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. The Magistrate
began his examination with characteristic incisiveness.

"Major Temple," he said, "you