“Did you know about the bag, then?” I asked in surprise.

“No.  I thought it was the hair-brush.”

I gazed at my colleague in amazement, and was about to ask for some elucidation of this cryptic reply, when he held up his finger and turned again to listen.

“Very well, Mr. Horwitz,” the coroner was saying, “I will make a note of your objection, but I shall allow the sergeant to continue his evidence.”

The solicitor sat down, and the detective resumed his statement.

“I have examined and compared the two samples of hair, and it is my opinion that they are from the head of the same person.  The only other observation that I made in the room was that there was a small quantity of silver sand sprinkled on the pillow around the deceased woman’s head.”

“Silver sand!” exclaimed the coroner.  “Surely that is a very singular material to find on a woman’s pillow?”

“I think it is easily explained,” replied the sergeant.  “The wash-hand basin was full of bloodstained water, showing that the murderer had washed his—­or her—­hands, and probably the knife, too, after the crime.  On the washstand was a ball of sand-soap, and I imagine that the murderer used this to cleanse his—­or her—­hands, and, while drying them, must have stood over the head of the bed and let the sand sprinkle down on to the pillow.”

“A simple but highly ingenious explanation,” commented the coroner approvingly, and the jurymen exchanged admiring nods and nudges.

“I searched the rooms occupied by the accused woman, Miriam Goldstein, and found there a knife of the kind used by stencil cutters, but larger than usual.  There were stains of blood on it which the accused explained by saying that she cut her finger some days ago.  She admitted that the knife was hers.”

This concluded the sergeant’s evidence, and he was about to sit down when the solicitor rose.

“I should like to ask this witness one or two questions,” said he, and the coroner having nodded assent, he proceeded:  “Has the finger of the accused been examined since her arrest?”

“I believe not,” replied the sergeant.  “Not to my knowledge, at any rate.”

The solicitor noted the reply, and then asked:  “With reference to the silver sand, did you find any at the bottom of the wash-hand basin?”

The sergeant’s face reddened.  “I did not examine the wash-hand basin,” he answered.

“Did anybody examine it?”

“I think not.”

“Thank you.”  Mr. Horwitz sat down, and the triumphant squeak of his quill pen was heard above the muttered disapproval of the jury.

“We shall now take the evidence of the doctors, gentlemen,” said the coroner, “and we will begin with that of the divisional surgeon.  You saw the deceased, I believe, Doctor,” he continued, when Dr. Davidson had been sworn, “soon after the discovery of the murder, and you have since then made an examination of the body?”