I was excused, and Mr. Reynolds was called.  He had heard no quarreling that Sunday night; had even heard Mrs. Ladley laughing.  This was about nine o’clock.  Yes, they had fought in the afternoon.  He had not overheard any words, but their voices were quarrelsome, and once he heard a chair or some article of furniture overthrown.  Was awakened about two by footsteps on the stairs, followed by the sound of oars in the lower hall.  He told his story plainly and simply.  Under cross-examination admitted that he was fond of detective stories and had tried to write one himself; that he had said at the store that he would like to see that “conceited ass” swing, referring to the prisoner; that he had sent flowers to Jennie Brice at the theater, and had made a few advances to her, without success.

My head was going round.  I don’t know yet how the police learned it all, but by the time poor Mr. Reynolds left the stand, half the people there believed that he had been in love with Jennie Brice, that she had spurned his advances, and that there was more to the story than any of them had suspected.

Miss Hope’s story held without any alteration under the cross-examination.  She was perfectly at ease, looked handsome and well dressed, and could not be shaken.  She told how Jennie Brice had been in fear of her life, and had asked her, only the week before she disappeared, to allow her to go home with her—­Miss Hope.  She told of the attack of hysteria in her dressing-room, and that the missing woman had said that her husband would kill her some day.  There was much wrangling over her testimony, and I believe at least a part of it was not allowed to go to the jury.  But I am not a lawyer, and I repeat what I recall.

“Did she say that he had attacked her?”

“Yes, more than once.  She was a large woman, fairly muscular, and had always held her own.”

“Did she say that these attacks came when he had been drinking?”

“I believe he was worse then.”

“Did she give any reason for her husband’s attitude to her?”

“She said he wanted to marry another woman.”

There was a small sensation at this.  If proved, it established a motive.

“Did she know who the other woman was?”

“I believe not.  She was away most of the day, and he put in his time as he liked.”

“Did Miss Brice ever mention the nature of the threats he made against her?”

“No, I think not.”

“Have you examined the body washed ashore at Sewickley?”

“Yes—­” in a low voice.

“Is it the body of Jennie Brice?”

“I can not say.”

“Does the remaining hand look like the hand of Jennie Brice?”

“Very much.  The nails are filed to points, as she wore hers.”

“Did you ever know of Jennie Brice having a scar on her breast?”

“No, but that would be easily concealed.”

“Just what do you mean?”