y're all right, I guess--they look all
right."

"It's a good jury," replied the coroner, as he took the paper. "Better
than usual. Are you ready, Mr. Singleton?"

"Yes," said the district attorney. "Oh, wait a minute," he added, and
he got up and came down to our table. "You're going to put Miss
Holladay on the stand, I suppose----"

"And expose her to all this?" and our junior looked around the room.
"Not if I can help it!"

"I don't see how you _can_ help it. An alibi's the only thing that
can save her from being bound over."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," retorted Mr. Royce. "I
think the case against her will soon die of inanition."

"Oh, very well," and Singleton abruptly went back to his desk, biting
his mustache thoughtfully. He had made something of a reputation,
since his election a year before, as a solver of abstruse criminal
problems, and had secured a conviction in two or three capital cases
which had threatened for a time to baffle the police. He evidently
scented something of the same kind here, or he would have entrusted
the case to one of his assistants. It might be added that, while his
successes had made him immensely popular with the multitude, there had
been, about one or two of them, a hint of unprofessional conduct,
which had made his brethren of the bar look rather askance at him.

He nodded to the coroner after a moment, the room was called to
order, and the first witness summoned.

It was Rogers, the confidential clerk. I knew Rogers, of course, had
talked with him often in a business way, and had the highest respect
for him. He had been with Mr. Holladay much longer than I had been
with Graham & Royce, and had, as Mr. Graham had pointed out, an
unimpeachable reputation.

There were the usual preliminaries, name, age, residence, and so on,
Coroner Goldberg asking the questions. He was a really good
cross-examiner, and soon came to the core of the matter.

"What is the position of your desk in Mr. Holladay's office?" he
asked.

"There is an outer office for the clerks; opening from that, a smaller
room where my desk is placed. Opening from my room was Mr. Holladay's
private office.

"Had Mr. Holladay's office any other door?"

"No, sir."

"Could entrance be had by the windows?"

"The windows open on the street side of the building. We occupy a part
of the eighth floor."

"The fire-escapes----"

"Are at the back of the building--there are none on the street