dered
woman was in the box. He had had later news of his unfortunate
daughter than her husband had had, but of course he could throw no
light at all on her murder or murderer.

A barman, who had served both the women with drink just before the
public-house closed for the night, was handled rather roughly. He
had stepped with a jaunty air into the box, and came out of it
looking cast down, uneasy.

And then there took place a very dramatic, because an utterly
unexpected, incident. It was one of which the evening papers made
the utmost much to Mrs. Bunting's indignation. But neither coroner
nor jury--and they, after all, were the people who mattered--
thought a great deal of it.

There had come a pause in the proceedings. All seven witnesses had
been heard, and a gentleman near Mrs. Bunting whispered, "They are
now going to call Dr. Gaunt. He's been in every big murder case for
the last thirty years. He's sure to have something interesting to
say. It was really to hear him I came."

But before Dr. Gaunt had time even to get up from the seat with
which he had been accommodated close to the coroner, there came a
stir among the general public, or, rather, among those spectators
who stood near the low wooden door which separated the official
part of the court from the gallery.

The coroner's officer, with an apologetic air, approached the
coroner, and handed him up an envelope. And again in an instant,
there fell absolute silence on the court.

Looking rather annoyed, the coroner opened the envelope. He glanced
down the sheet of notepaper it contained. Then he looked up.

"Mr.--" then he glanced down again. "Mr.--ah--Mr.--is it Cannot?"
he said doubtfully, "may come forward."

There ran a titter though the spectators, and the coroner frowned.

A neat, jaunty-looking old gentleman, in a nice fur-lined overcoat,
with a fresh, red face and white side-whiskers, was conducted from
the place where he had been standing among the general public, to
the witness-box.

"This is somewhat out of order, Mr.--er--Cannot," said the
coroner severely. "You should have sent me this note before the
proceedings began. This gentleman," he said, addressing the jury,
"informs me that he has something of the utmost importance to
reveal in connection with our investigation."

"I have remained silent--I have locked what I knew within my own
breast"--began Mr. Cannot in a quavering voice, "because I am so
afraid of the Press! I knew if I