continue their investigations in
order that the guilty person may not escape. I conceive that it is
not within our province to probe this case further--that may be left
to abler and more experienced hands; nor do I think we should
inculpate anyone so long as there is a reasonable doubt of his guilt.
We await your verdict."

The jury filed slowly out, and I watched them anxiously. In face of
the coroner's instructions, they could bring in but one verdict; yet I
knew from experience that a jury is ever an unknown quantity, often
producing the most unexpected results.

The district attorney came down from his seat and shook hands with
both of us.

"That was a great stroke!" he said, with frank admiration. "Whatever
made you suspect?"

Mr. Royce handed him the note for answer. He read it through, and
stared back at us in astonishment.

"Why," he began, "who wrote this?"

"That's the note that was delivered to us a while ago," answered Mr.
Royce. "You know as much about it as we do. But it seems to me a
pretty important piece of evidence. I turn it over to you."

"Important!" cried Singleton. "I should say so! Why, gentlemen," and
his eyes were gleaming, "this was written either by an accomplice or
by the woman herself!"

My chief nodded.

"Precisely," he said. "I'd get on the track of the writer without
delay."

Singleton turned and whispered a few words to a clerk, who hurried
from the room. Then he motioned to two smooth-faced, well-built men
who sat near by, spoke a word to the coroner, and retired with them
into the latter's private office. The reporters crowded about us with
congratulations and questions. They scented a mystery. What was the
matter with Singleton? What was the new piece of evidence? Was it the
note? What was in the note?

Mr. Royce smiled.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I trust that my connection with this affair
will end in a very few minutes. For any further information, I must
refer you to the district attorney--the case is in his hands."

But those men he had summoned into his office were Karle and Johnston,
the cleverest detectives on the force. What did he want with them? Mr.
Royce merely shrugged his shoulders. Whereat the reporters deserted
him and massed themselves before the door into the coroner's room. It
opened in a moment, and the two detectives came hurrying out. They
looked neither to the right nor left, but shouldered their way cruelly
through the crowd, paying not the sli