"I think that is all, Mr. Cunningham."

The wrinkled little juryman leaned forward and piped his question
again. "Was your uncle engaged to be married at the time of his death?"

The startled eyes of Jack Cunningham leaped to the little man. There
was in them dismay, almost panic. Then, swiftly, he recovered and
drawled insolently, "I try to mind my own business. Do you?"

The coroner asserted himself. "Here, here, none of that! Order in
this court, _if_ you please, gentlemen." He bustled in his manner,
turning to the attorney. "Through with Mr. Cunningham, Johns? If so,
we'll push on."

"Quite." The prosecuting attorney consulted a list in front of him.
"Cass Hull next."

Hull came puffing to the stand. He was a porpoise of a man. His eyes
dodged about the room in dread. It was as though he were looking for a
way of escape.




CHAPTER XII

"THAT'S THE MAN"

"Your name?"