With the full approbation of the Coroner, to whom he had explained his idea, Mr. Gryce began the sifting process by which he hoped to discover the one witness he wanted.

To subject to further durance such persons as from their position at the moment of tragedy could have no information to give bearing in any way upon their investigation was manifestly unfair.  The old woman who had been found in Room A was of this class, and accordingly was allowed to go, together with such others as had been within twenty feet or more of the main entrance.  These eliminated (it was curious to see how loath these few chosen ones were to depart, now that the opportunity was given them), Mr. Gryce settled down to business by asking Mrs. Lynch to come forward.

She, as you will see by consulting the chart, answered to the person marked “2.”  A little, dried-up, eager woman rose from the bench on which were collected the few people still remaining, and met his inquiring look with a nervous smile.  She, of all the persons moving about on the main floor at the moment of alarm, had been in the best position for seeing the flight of the arrow and the fall of the victim in Section II.  Had she seen them?  The continued jigging of the small, wiry curls hanging out from either side of her old-fashioned bonnet would seem to betray an inner perturbation indicative of some hitherto suppressed information.  At all events Mr. Gryce allowed himself this hope and was most bland and encouraging in his manner as he showed her the place which had been assigned her on the chart drawn up by Sweetwater, and asked if the position given her was correct.

Perhaps a ready reply was too much to expect—­women of her stamp not knowing, as a rule, very much about charts.  But when he saw her hasten to the very spot assigned her by Sweetwater, he took heart and with a suggestive glance at the gallery intimated that he would be very glad to hear what she had seen there.  Her surprise was evident, much too evident for his satisfaction.  The little curls jigged about more than ever, and her cheeks grew quite pink as she answered hastily: 

“I didn’t see anything.  I wasn’t looking.  Did you think I saw anything?”

“I hoped you had,” he smiled.  “If your eyes had chanced to be turned toward that end of the gallery——­”

“But I was going the other way.  My back was to it, not my face—­like this.”  And wheeling herself about, she showed him that she had been walking toward the rear of the building rather than advancing toward the front.

His disappointment was great; but it would have been greater if he had not realized that under these conditions she was in the precise position to meet face to face any person emerging into the court from the foot of the small staircase.  If she could tell him of having seen any such person, and closely enough to be able to give a description of this person’s appearance, then she might prove to be his prime witness, after all.  But she could not satisfy him on this point.  She had been on her way out, and was too busy searching in her bag for her umbrella check to notice whether there were people about her or not.  She had not found it when the great shout came.