was not quite sure about the day, but it
was either Monday or Tuesday of the preceding week. And how often did
the ashes from the fireplaces in Mr. North's and Mr. Gilmore's rooms
find their way into the barrel? Every morning he cleaned out the grates
the first thing, and usually before Mr. North or Mr. Gilmore were up.

Again Moxlow paused and glanced over the room. He must have been aware
that to his eager audience the connection between Mr. North's and Mr.
Gilmore's fireplaces and the McBride murder, was anything but clear.

"Did you empty the ashes from the fireplaces in the apartments occupied
by Mr. North and Mr. Gilmore on Friday morning?" he asked.

"Yes; that is, I took up the ashes in Mr. North's rooms."

"But not in Mr. Gilmore's?"

"No, sir, I didn't go into his rooms Friday morning."

"Why was that,--was there any reason for it?"

"Yes, I knew that Mr. Gilmore's rooms had not been occupied Thursday
night; that was the night of the murder, and he was at McBride's house,"
explained the witness.

"But you emptied the grate in Mr. North's rooms?"

"Yes, sir."

"And disposed of the ashes in the usual way?"

"Yes, sir."

"In the barrel in the yard back of the building?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you notice anything peculiar about the ashes from Mr. North's rooms
on Friday morning?"

The witness looked puzzled.

"Hadn't Mr. North burnt a good many papers in his grate?"

"Oh, yes, but then he was going away."

"That will do,--you are excused," interposed Moxlow quickly.

The sheriff was next sworn. Without interruption from Moxlow he told his
story. He had made a thorough search of the ash barrel described by the
witness Thomas Nelson, and had come upon a number of charred fragments
of paper.

"We think these may be of interest to the coroner's jury," said Moxlow
quietly.

He drew a small pasteboard box from an inner pocket of his coat and
carefully arranged its contents on the table before him. In all there
were half a dozen scraps of charred or torn paper displayed; one or two
of these fragments were bits of envelopes on which either a part or all
of the name was still decipherable. North, from where he sat, was able
to recognize a number of these as letters which he had intended to
destroy that last night in his rooms; but the refuse from his grate and
the McBride murder still seemed poles apart; he could imagine no
possible connection.

The president of Mount Hope's first national bank wa