“Pushed close to the left-hand wall and parallel to it.”

“Very close?”

“Touching it.”

“Under the circumstances could the revolver have been fired so that the bullet could have taken the course it did if held in the right hand?”

“Hardly.  Not unless it was held with extreme awkwardness.”

“In your judgment, then, the revolver was fired by a left-handed person?”

“That is my opinion.”

The coroner swelled like a turkey cock as he waved the attorney to take charge again.

Lane’s heart drummed fast.  He did not look across the room toward the girl in the blue tailored suit.  But he saw her, just as clearly as though his eyes had been fastened on her.  The detail that stood out in his imagination was the right arm set in splints and resting in a linen sling suspended from the neck.

Temporarily Rose McLean was left-handed.

“Was it possible that the deceased could have shot himself?”

“Do you mean, is it possible that somebody could have tied him to the chair after he was dead?”

“Yes.”

The surgeon, taken by surprise, hesitated.  “That’s possible, certainly.”

James Cunningham took the witness chair after the police officers who had arrived at the scene of the tragedy with the surgeon had finished their testimony.  One point brought out by the officers was that in the search of the rooms the two thousand dollars was not found.  The oil broker gave information as to his uncle’s affairs.

“You knew your uncle well?” the lawyer asked presently.

“Intimately.”

“And were on good terms with him?”

“The best.”

“Had he ever suggested to you that he might commit suicide?”

“Never,” answered the oil broker with emphasis.  “He was the last man in the world one would have associated with such a thought.”

“Did he own a revolver?”

“No, not to my knowledge.  He had an automatic.”

“What caliber was it?”

“I’m not quite sure—­about a .38, I think.”

“When did you see it last?”

“I don’t recollect.”

The prosecuting attorney glanced at his notes.

“You are his next of kin?”

“My brother and I are his nephews.  He had no nearer relatives.”

“You are his only nephews—­his only near relatives?”

Cunningham hesitated, for just the blinking of an eye.  He did not want to bring Kirby into his testimony if he could help it.  That might ultimately lead to his arrest.

“He had one other nephew.”

“Living in Denver?”

“No.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere in Wyoming, I think.  We do not correspond.”

“Do you know if he is there now?”

The witness dodged.  “He lives there, I think.”

“Do you happen to know where he is at the present moment?”