This concluded the evidence of Kate Silver, and when the name of the next witness, Paul Petrofsky, was called, our Mansell Street friend came forward to be sworn.  His evidence was quite brief, and merely corroborative of that of Kate Silver, as was that of the next witness, Edith Bryant.  When these had been disposed of, the coroner announced: 

“Before taking the medical evidence, gentlemen, I propose to hear that of the police-officers, and first we will call Detective-sergeant Alfred Bates.”

The sergeant stepped forward briskly, and proceeded to give his evidence with official readiness and precision.

“I was called by Constable Simmonds at eleven-forty-nine, and reached the house at two minutes to twelve in company with Inspector Harris and Divisional Surgeon Davidson.  When I arrived Dr. Hart, Dr. Thorndyke, and Dr. Jervis were already in the room.  I found the deceased woman, Minna Adler, lying in bed with her throat cut.  She was dead and cold.  There were no signs of a struggle, and the bed did not appear to have been disturbed.  There was a table by the bedside on which was a book and an empty candlestick.  The candle had apparently burnt out, for there was only a piece of charred wick at the bottom of the socket.  A box had been placed on the floor at the head of the bed and a hassock stood on it.  Apparently the murderer had stood on the hassock and leaned over the head of the bed to commit the murder.  This was rendered necessary by the position of the table, which could not have been moved without making some noise and perhaps disturbing the deceased.  I infer from the presence of the box and hassock that the murderer is a short person.”

“Was there anything else that seemed to fix the identity of the murderer?”

“Yes.  A tress of a woman’s red hair was grasped in the left hand of the deceased.”

As the detective uttered this statement, a simultaneous shriek of horror burst from the accused woman and her mother.  Mrs. Goldstein sank half-fainting on to a bench, while Miriam, pale as death, stood as one petrified, fixing the detective with a stare of terror, as he drew from his pocket two small paper packets, which he opened and handed to the coroner.

“The hair in the packet marked A,” said he, “is that which was found in the hand of the deceased; that in the packet marked B is the hair of Miriam Goldstein.”

Here the accused woman’s solicitor rose.  “Where did you obtain the hair in the packet marked B?” he demanded.

“I took it from a bag of combings that hung on the wall of Miriam Goldstein’s bedroom,” answered the detective.

“I object to this,” said the solicitor.  “There is no evidence that the hair from that bag was the hair of Miriam Goldstein at all.”

Thorndyke chuckled softly.  “The lawyer is as dense as the policeman,” he remarked to me in an undertone.  “Neither of them seems to see the significance of that bag in the least.”