The inquest was held late Saturday afternoon in the bleak living-room of
the McBride house. The coroner had explained the manner in which the
murdered man had come to his death, and as he finished he turned to
Moxlow. The prosecuting attorney shifted his position slightly, thrust
out his long legs toward the wood-stove, and buried his hands deep in
his trousers pockets, then he addressed the jury.

They were there, he told them, to listen to certain facts that bore on
the death of Archibald McBride. If, after hearing these facts, they
could say they pointed to any person or persons as being implicated in
the murder, they were to name the person or persons, and he would see
that they were brought before the grand jury for indictment. They were
to bear in mind, however, that no one was on trial, and that no one was
accused of the crime about to be investigated, yet they must not forget
that a cold-blooded murder had been committed; human hands had raised
the weapon that had crushed out the life of the old merchant, human
intelligence had made choice of the day and hour and moment for that
brutal deed; the possibility of escape had been nicely calculated,
nothing had been left to chance. He would venture the assertion that if
the murderer were ever found he would prove to be no ordinary criminal.

All this Moxlow said with judicial deliberation and with the lawyer's
careful qualifying of word and phrase.

Shrimplin was the first witness. He described in his own fashion the
finding of Archibald McBride's body. Then a few skilful questions by
Moxlow brought out the fact of his having met John North on the Square
immediately before his own gruesome discovery. The little lamplighter
was excused, and Colonel Harbison took his: place. He, in his turn,