ss Holladay's maid," said the former at last.

She was on the stand again in a moment, calmer than she had been, but
deadly pale.

"Are your mistress's handkerchiefs marked in any way?" Goldberg asked,
as she turned to him.

"Some of them are, yes, sir, with her initials, in the form of a
monogram. Most of them are plain."

"Do you recognize this one?" and he handed her the ghastly piece of
evidence.

I held my breath while the woman looked it over, turning it with
trembling fingers.

"No, sir!" she replied emphatically, as she returned it to him.

"Does your mistress possess any handkerchiefs that resemble this one?"

"Oh, yes, sir; it's an ordinary cambric handkerchief of good quality
such as most ladies use."

I breathed a long sigh of relief; here, at least, fortune favored us.

"That is all. Have you any questions, Mr. Royce?"

Again our junior shook his head.

"That concludes our case," added the coroner. "Have you any witnesses
to summon, sir?"

What witnesses could we have? Only one--and I fancied that the jurymen
were looking at us expectantly. If our client were indeed innocent,
why should we hesitate to put her on the stand, to give her
opportunity to defend herself, to enable her to shatter, in a few
words, this chain of circumstance so firmly forged about her? If she
were innocent, would she not naturally wish to speak in her own
behalf? Did not her very unwillingness to speak argue----

"Ask for a recess," I whispered. "Go to Miss Holladay, and tell her
that unless she speaks----"

But before Mr. Royce could answer, a policeman pushed his way forward
from the rear of the room and handed a note to the coroner.

"A messenger brought this a moment ago, sir," he explained.

The coroner glanced at the superscription and handed it to my chief.

"It's for you, Mr. Royce," he said.

I saw that the address read,

For Mr. Royce,
Attorney for the Defense.

He tore it open, and ran his eyes rapidly over the inclosure. He read
it through a second time, then held out the paper to me with an
expression of the blankest amazement. The note read:

The man Rogers is lying. The woman who was with
Holladay wore a gown of dark green.

CHAPTER IV

I Have an Inspiration

I stared at the lines in dumb bewilderment. "The man Rogers is lying."
But what conceivable motive could he have for lying? Besides, as I
looked at him on the stand, I would have sworn that he was t