"Yes," the editor nodded.

Granice gave a short laugh. "In my old coat--with my pipe: looked as
if I'd been working all night, didn't I? Well, I hadn't been in my
chair ten minutes!"

Denver uncrossed his legs and then crossed them again. "I didn't
know whether _you_ remembered that."

"What?"

"My coming in that particular night--or morning."

Granice swung round in his chair. "Why, man alive! That's why I'm
here now. Because it was you who spoke for me at the inquest, when
they looked round to see what all the old man's heirs had been doing
that night--you who testified to having dropped in and found me at
my desk as usual. ... I thought _that_ would appeal to your
journalistic sense if nothing else would!"

Denver smiled. "Oh, my journalistic sense is still susceptible
enough--and the idea's picturesque, I grant you: asking the man who
proved your alibi to establish your guilt."

"That's it--that's it!" Granice's laugh had a ring of triumph.

"Well, but how about the other chap's testimony--I mean that young
doctor: what was his name? Ned Ranney. Don't you remember my
testifying that I'd met him at the elevated station, and told him I
was on my way to smoke a pipe with you, and his saying: 'All right;