Silence.  Heads moving, eyes peering, excitement visible in every face, but not a word from anybody.  Mr. Gryce turned and pointed up at the clock.  All looked—­but still no word from man or woman.

One minute gone!

Two minutes!

Three!

The silence had become portentous.  The movement, involuntary and simultaneous, which had run through the crowd at first had stopped.  They were waiting—­each and all—­waiting with eyes on the minute-hand creeping forward over the dial toward which the detective’s glance was still turned.

The fourth minute passed—­then the fifth—­and no one had spoken.

With a sigh Mr. Gryce wheeled himself back and faced the crowd again.

“You see,” he quietly announced, “the case is serious.  Twenty-two of you, and not one to speak the half-dozen words which would release the rest from their present embarrassing position!  What remains for us to do under circumstances like these?  My experience suggests but one course:  to narrow down this inquiry to those—­you will not find them many—­who from their nearness to the place of tragedy or from some other cause equally pertinent may be looked upon as possible witnesses for the Coroner’s jury.  That this may be done speedily and surely, I am going to ask you, every one of you, to retake the exact place in the building which you were occupying when you heard the first alarm.  I will begin with the Curator himself.  Mr. Jewett, will you be so good as to return to the room, and if possible to the precise spot, you were occupying when you first learned what had occurred here?”

The Curator, who stood at his elbow, made a quick bow and turned in the direction of the marble steps, which he hastily remounted.  A murmur from the crowd followed this action and continued till he disappeared in the recesses of the right-hand gallery.  Then, at a gesture from Mr. Gryce, it suddenly ceased, and with a breathless interest easy to comprehend, they one and all waited for his next word.  It was a simple one.

“We are all obliged to Mr. Jewett for his speedy compliance with so unusual a request.  He has made my task a comparatively easy one.”

Then, glancing at the list of names and addresses which had been compiled for him by Sweetwater, he added: 

“I will read off your names as recorded here.  If each person, on hearing his own, will move quickly to his place and remain there till my young man can make a note of the same, we shall get through this matter in short order.  And let me add”—­as he perceived here and there a shoulder shrugged, or an eye turned askance—­“that once the name is called, no excuse of non-recollection will be accepted.  You must know, every one of you, just where you were standing when the cry of death rang out, and any attempt to mislead me or others in this matter will only subject the person making it to a suspicion he must wish to avoid.  Remember that there are enough persons here for no one to be sure that his whereabouts at so exciting a moment escaped notice.  Listen, then, and when your own name is spoken, step quickly into place, whether that place be on this floor or in the rooms or galleries above.—­Mrs. Alice Lee!”