r. Jeffrey's examination and its triumphant conclusion created a
great furor in town. Topics which had hitherto absorbed all minds
were forgotten in the discussion of the daring attempt which had
been made by the police to fix crime upon one of Washington's most
esteemed citizens, and the check which they had rightly suffered
for this outrage. What might be expected next? Something equally
bold and reprehensible, of course, but what? It was a question
which at the next sitting completely filled the inquest room.

To my great surprise, Mr. Jeffrey was recalled to the stand. He
had changed since the night before. He looked older, and while
still handsome, for nothing could rob him of his regularity of
feature and extreme elegance of proportion, showed little of the
spirit which, in spite of the previous day's depression, had
upheld him through its most trying ordeal and kept his eye bright,
if only from excitement. This was fact number one, and one which
I stored away in my already well-furnished memory.

Miss Tuttle sat in a less conspicuous position than on the previous
day, and Mr. Moore, her uncle, was not thereat all.

The testimony called for revived an old point which, seemingly, had
not been settled to the coroner's satisfaction.

Had Mr. Jeffrey placed the small stand holding the candelabrum on
the spot where it had been found? No. Had he carried into the
house, at the time of his acknowledged visit, the candles which had
been afterward discovered there? No. He had had time to think
since his hesitating and unsatisfactory replies of the day before,
and he was now in a position to say that while he distinctly
remembered buying candles on his way to the Moore house, he had not
found them in his pocket on getting there and had been obliged to
make use of the matches he always carried on his person in order to
find his way to the upstairs room where he felt positive he would
find a candle.

This gave the coroner an opportunity to ask:

"And why did you expect to find a candle there?"

The answer astonished me and, I have no doubt, many others.

"It was the room in which my wife had dressed for the ceremony. It
had not been disturbed since that time. My wife had little ways of
her own; one was to complete her toilet by using a curling iron on
a little lock she wore over her temple. When at home she heated
this curling iron in the gas jet, but there being no gas in the Moore
house, I naturally c