walked in, and did the short distance in less than twenty minutes. On arrival, we went at once to the headquarters of the police, where I made my first acquaintance with the interior of a cell. McQuade informed me that I would be taken before the Magistrate for a hearing at ten o'clock, and suggested that I had better employ counsel, but this I refused to do. I had made up my mind to tell the whole story as simply and exactly as I could and trust to the plain, unvarnished truth to see me out of my difficulties. I asked the detective upon our arrival if he had received any word regarding Miss Temple, and he told me that she would arrive during the forenoon. Major Temple and the servants were to come into the town a little later, in time for the hearing, at which they would be wanted as witnesses. I secured a morning paper and resigned myself to a tedious wait of somewhat over two hours. I was strangely calm and self-possessed. The ordeal through which I was about to pass seemed to give me but slight concern. But for Miss Temple I feared greatly.
Chapter 10
MISS TEMPLE'S TESTIMONY
The police court at Exeter was situated in an old building, and the Magistrate's room was small and cold. When I was led forth and placed in the dock, I felt at first confused and gazed at the crowded benches before me with a dull sense of annoyance. Presently I made out the troubled, white face of Major Temple, sitting near the rear of the room, and behind him Gibson and two of the other servants. The remainder of the persons in the room were strangers to me, drawn thither, no doubt, by the merest curiosity. I looked up at the Magistrate and found him to be a little, red-faced man, with a stern, but not unkind, face—a man, evidently, who had seen so much of human guilt and suffering that the edge of his sympathies had been worn off and replaced with a patient cynicism. The usual questions as to my name, age, residence and occupation were asked, and then the real business of the hearing began. The finding of the coroner's inquest was first read, and then Major Temple was placed upon the witness stand. The old gentleman looked more shrunken and old than ever. His face was yellow, his eyes hollow and heavy from want of sleep, his hands trembling with excitement. I could well understand his agitation. His daughter, even now under arrest, was hurrying to Exeter to undergo that most terrible of all ordeals, a hearing on a charge of murder. Whether or not her story would end in a confession, no one knew; that she had something of the greatest import to tell, her letter indicated. All these thoughts must have crowded through her poor father's mind as he took his seat and made oath to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. The Magistrate began his examination with characteristic incisiveness.
"Major Temple," he said, "you are here as a witness in the case of Mr. Owen Morgan, charged with complicity in the murder of Robert Ashton."
The Major bowed, but remained silent.
"When did you first meet Mr. Morgan?"
"The night he first came to my house, five days ago."
"Never saw him before?"
"Never. Mr. Ashton offered him a place in his motor, on his way to my house. On account of the storm, he stopped there and remained over night."
"It is supposed that this murder had as a motive the securing of a valuable emerald in Mr. Ashton's possession. When Mr. Ashton first exhibited it to you, was Mr. Morgan present?"
"He was."
"Did he know the value of the jewel?"
"I do not know. I think the matter was mentioned at the table."
"You had agreed to give your daughter's hand in marriage to Mr. Ashton, in return for obtaining for you this jewel. Is that true?"
"Yes," the Major faltered.
"Was your daughter opposed to this arrangement?"
"She was."
"And you insisted upon it?"
"I had given my word as a gentleman."
"The securing of the jewel, then, from Mr. Ashton would have released her from the arrangement?"
"If Mr. Ashton had not had it, he could not have carried out his agreement, of course."
"At what time did you retire on the night of the murder?"
"Shortly before midnight."
"After Mr. Ashton?"
"Yes—I saw him to his room."
"After that you retired at once?"
"Yes."
"Did you wake during the night?"
"Not until I was aroused by Mr. Morgan's cries—about daybreak, or a little before."
"Was it light?"
"Hardly—it was just before sunrise."
"You did not leave your room, from the time you retired, until you heard Mr. Morgan's cries?"
"No."
"What did you do then?"
"I threw on some clothing and ran along the hall into the west wing. I sleep at the other end of the house in the east wing. When I arrived at Mr. Ashton's door, Mr. Morgan was trying to open it. My man, Gibson, who also heard the cries, came along, followed by one of the maids."
"Did your daughter join you?"
"Yes, almost immediately."
"How was she dressed?"
"She wore a dressing gown and slippers."
"You heard no other cries but Mr. Morgan's?"
"No."
"What happened then?"
"Mr. Morgan and Gibson broke open the door, which was bolted. The maid brought a candle. I ordered my daughter to retire. Mr. Morgan and I entered the room with the candle and closed the door. We found Mr. Ashton on the floor dead."
"What did you do?"
"I began to search for the emerald Buddha."
"What did Mr. Morgan do?"
"He first examined the body of the dead man, and then went to the windows and examined the fastenings."
"Did he close or open the windows or fastenings?"
"I do not know. I paid little attention to him. I was greatly excited about the loss of the jewel."
"Could he have fastened the window without your knowing it?"
"I suppose he could—I paid little attention to him."
"What happened then?"
"After our examination of the room we closed and locked the door. We then had some coffee, after which Mr. Morgan went into Exeter and notified the police."
"Major
