jury, and felt their sudden doubt of him, as intangibly but as certainly
as he felt the dead presence just beyond the closed door.

"We have one other witness," said Moxlow.

And Joe Montgomery, seeming to understand that he was this witness,
promptly quitted his chair at the back of the room and, cap in hand,
slouched forward and was duly sworn by the coroner.

If Mr. Montgomery had shown promptness he had also evinced uneasiness,
since his fear of the law was as rock-ribbed as his respect for it. He
was not unfamiliar with courts, though never before had he appeared in
the character of a witness; and he had told himself many times that day
that the business in which he had allowed Mr. Gilmore to involve him
carried him far behind his depths. Now his small blue eyes slid round in
their sockets somewhat fearfully until they rested on Mr. Gilmore, who
had just taken up his position at Marshall Langham's elbow. The gambler
frowned and the handy-man instantly shifted his gaze. But the
prosecuting attorney's first questions served to give Joe a measure of
ease; this was transitory, however, as he seemed to stand alone in the
presence of some imminent personal danger when Moxlow asked:

"Where were you on the night of the twenty-seventh of November at six
o'clock?"

Joe stole a haunted glance in the direction of Gilmore. Moxlow repeated
his question.

"Boss, I was in White's woodshed," answered Montgomery.