Mr, Churchill:  “Did you at that examination detect any traces of chloroform?”

“There was an odor of chloroform very perceptible when we lifted the hair to examine the skull; and on searching the room, we found a vial which had contained chloroform, and was beside the pillow, where a portion had evidently leaked out.”

“Could death have occurred in consequence of inhaling that chloroform?”

“If so, the deceased could never have risen, and would have been found in his bed; moreover, the limbs were drawn up, and bent into a position totally inconsistent with any theory of death produced by anaesthetics; and the body was rigid as iron.”

The foregoing testimony was confirmed by that of Doctor Cranmar, a resident physician, who had been summoned by the Coroner to assist Doctor Ledyard in the examination, reported formally at the inquest.

“Here, gentlemen of the jury, is the fatal weapon with which a woman’s hand, supernaturally nerved in the struggle for gain, struck down, destroyed a venerable old man, an honored citizen, whose gray hairs should have shielded him from the murderous assault of a mercenary adventuress.  Can she behold without a shudder, this tell-tale instrument of her monstrous crime?”

High above his head, Mr. Churchill raised the old-fashioned andiron, and involuntarily Beryl glanced at the quaint brass figure, cast in the form of a unicorn, with a heavy ball surmounting the horn.

“Abednego Darrington!”

Sullen, crestfallen and woe-begone was the demeanor of the old negro, who had been brought vi et armis by a constable, from the seclusion of a corner of the “Bend Plantation”, where he had secreted himself, to avoid the shame of bearing testimony against his mistress’ child.  When placed on the witness stand, he crossed his arms over his chest, planted his right foot firmly in advance, and fixed his eyes on the leather strings that tied his shoes.

After some unimportant preliminaries, the District Solicitor asked: 

“When did you first see the prisoner, who now sits before you?”

“When she come to our house, the evening before ole Marster died.”

“You admitted her to your Master’s presence?”

“I never tuck no sech libberties.  He tole me to let her in.”

“You carried her to his room?”

“Yes, sir.”

“About what time of the day was it?”

“Don’t know.”

“Gen’l Darrington always dined at three o’clock.  Was it before or after dinner?”

“After.”

“How long was the prisoner in the General’s room?”

“Don’t know.”

“Did she leave the house by the front door, or the side door?”

“Can’t say.  Didn’t see her when she come out.”

“About how long was she in the house?”

“I totes no watch, and I never had no luck guessing.  I’m shore to land wrong.”

“Was it one hour or two?”