ara, who never lets pass a flaw
or a loophole for criticism; who never loses a chance to pick and
torture and puzzle a witness, is strangely indifferent.

One by one the witnesses for the prosecution pass before him; little by
little they build a mountain of evidence against his client. He declines
to examine them. He listens to their testimony with the air of a bored
play-goer at a very poor farce.

After the testimony of the two masons, comes that of the party who last
saw John Burrill in life. They testify as they did at the
inquest--neither more, nor less.

Then come the dwellers in Mill avenue. They are all there but Brooks and
Nance Burrill.

"Your honor," says the prosecuting attorney, "two of our witnesses--two
very important ones--are absent. Why they are absent, we do not know.
Where they may be found, is a profound mystery.

"One of these witnesses, a man called Brooks, we believe to have been
especially intimate with the murdered man. We think that he could have
revealed the secret which the prisoner took such deadly measures to
cover up. This man can not be found. He disappeared shortly after the
murder.

"Our other witness vanished almost simultaneously. This other was the
divorced wife of the murdered Burrill. She, too, knew too much. Now I do
not insinuate--I do not cast any stones, but there are some, not far
distant, who could explain these two mysterious disappearances, 'an they
would.'"

"An they _will_!" pops in the hitherto mute O'Meara. "They'll make
several knotty points clear to your understanding, honorable sir."

A retort rises to his opponent's lips, and a wordy war seems imminent,
but the crier commands "Order in the Court," and the two antagonists
glare at each other mutely, while the trial moves on.

Frank Lamotte comes upon the witness stand. As before, he tells nothing
new.

He was aware that his brother-in-law possessed some secret of Doctor
Heath's. Did not know the nature of it, but inferred from words Burrill
had let drop, that it was of a damaging character.

Upon being questioned as to his acquaintance with the prisoner, and what
he knew of his disposition and temper, he replies that he has known the
prisoner since he first came to W----; liked him very much; never had
any personal misunderstanding, although of late the prisoner had chosen
to treat him with marked coldness.

As to his temper--well, he must admit that it was very fiery, very
quickly roused, very diff