Again Moxlow paused and glanced over the room.  He must have been aware that to his eager audience the connection between Mr. North’s and Mr. Gilmore’s fireplaces and the McBride murder, was anything but clear.

“Did you empty the ashes from the fireplaces in the apartments occupied by Mr. North and Mr. Gilmore on Friday morning?” he asked.

“Yes; that is, I took up the ashes in Mr. North’s rooms.”

“But not in Mr. Gilmore’s?”

“No, sir, I didn’t go into his rooms Friday morning.”

“Why was that,—­was there any reason for it?”

“Yes, I knew that Mr. Gilmore’s rooms had not been occupied Thursday night; that was the night of the murder, and he was at McBride’s house,” explained the witness.

“But you emptied the grate in Mr. North’s rooms?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And disposed of the ashes in the usual way?”

“Yes, sir.”

“In the barrel in the yard back of the building?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you notice anything peculiar about the ashes from Mr. North’s rooms on Friday morning?”

The witness looked puzzled.

“Hadn’t Mr. North burnt a good many papers in his grate?”

“Oh, yes, but then he was going away.”

“That will do,—­you are excused,” interposed Moxlow quickly.

The sheriff was next sworn.  Without interruption from Moxlow he told his story.  He had made a thorough search of the ash barrel described by the witness Thomas Nelson, and had come upon a number of charred fragments of paper.

“We think these may be of interest to the coroner’s jury,” said Moxlow quietly.

He drew a small pasteboard box from an inner pocket of his coat and carefully arranged its contents on the table before him.  In all there were half a dozen scraps of charred or torn paper displayed; one or two of these fragments were bits of envelopes on which either a part or all of the name was still decipherable.  North, from where he sat, was able to recognize a number of these as letters which he had intended to destroy that last night in his rooms; but the refuse from his grate and the McBride murder still seemed poles apart; he could imagine no possible connection.

The president of Mount Hope’s first national bank was the next witness called.  He was asked by Moxlow to examine a Mount Hope Gas Company bond, and then the prosecuting attorney placed in his hands a triangular piece of paper which he selected from among the other fragments on the table.

“Mr. Harden, will you kindly tell the jury of what, in your opinion, that bit of paper in your hand was once a part?” said Moxlow.

Very deliberately the banker put on his glasses, and then with equal deliberation began a careful examination of the scrap of paper.

“Well?” said Moxlow.

“A second, please!” said the banker.

But the seconds grew into minutes before he was ready to risk an opinion.