ence of a
pistol belonging to Mr. Leavenworth, and upon searching, we discover it
in his room. Did you know of his possessing such an instrument?"

"I did."

"Was it a fact generally known in the house?"

"So it would seem."

"How was that? Was he in the habit of leaving it around where any one
could see it?"

"I cannot say; I can only acquaint you with the manner in which I myself
became aware of its existence."

"Very well, do so."

"We were once talking about firearms. I have some taste that way, and
have always been anxious to possess a pocket-pistol. Saying something
of the kind to him one day, he rose from his seat and, fetching me this,
showed it to me."

"How long ago was this?"

"Some few months since."

"He has owned this pistol, then, for some time?"

"Yes, sir."

"Is that the only occasion upon which you have ever seen it?"

"No, sir,"--the secretary blushed--"I have seen it once since."

"When?"

"About three weeks ago."

"Under what circumstances?"

The secretary dropped his head, a certain drawn look making itself
suddenly visible on his countenance.

"Will you not excuse me, gentlemen?" he asked, after a moment's
hesitation.

"It is impossible," returned the coroner.

His face grew even more pallid and deprecatory. "I am obliged to
introduce the name of a lady," he hesitatingly declared.

"We are very sorry," remarked the coroner.

The young man turned fiercely upon him, and I could not help wondering
that I had ever thought him commonplace. "Of Miss Eleanore Leavenworth!"
he cried.

At that name, so uttered, every one started but Mr. Gryce; he was
engaged in holding a close and confidential confab with his finger-tips,
and did not appear to notice.

"Surely it is contrary to the rules of decorum and the respect we all
feel for the lady herself to introduce her name into this discussion,"
continued Mr. Harwell. But the coroner still insisting upon an answer,
he refolded his arms (a movement indicative of resolution with him), and
began in a low, forced tone to say:

"It is only this, gentlemen. One afternoon, about three weeks since, I
had occasion to go to the library at an unusual hour. Crossing over to
the mantel-piece for the purpose of procuring a penknife which I had
carelessly left there in the morning, I heard a noise in the adjoining
room. Knowing that Mr. Leavenworth was out, and supposing the ladies to
be out also, I took the liberty of ascertaining who the