you say, lying forward across his desk with a knife in his throat and the blood spurting out. Did you recognize the knife?"
"Yes, sir. It was his knife—a knife he kept lying on his desk to sharpen pencils with and erase and so on."
"Sharp, was it?"
"It had one long blade, very sharp, sir."
The coroner picked up a knife that was lying on the desk before him.
"Is this the knife?" he asked.
Rogers looked at it carefully.
"That's the knife, sir," he said, and it was passed to the jury. When they had finished with it, Mr. Royce and I examined it. It was an ordinary one-bladed erasing knife with ivory handle. It was open, the blade being about two inches and a half in length, and, as I soon convinced myself, very sharp indeed.
"Will you describe Mr. Holladay's position?" continued the coroner.
"He was lying forward on the desk, with his arms outstretched and his head to one side."
"And there was a great deal of blood?"
"Oh, a great deal! Someone, apparently, had attempted to check it, for a little distance away there was a handkerchief soaked in blood."
The coroner picked up a handkerchief and handed it to the witness.
"Is that the handkerchief?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," said Rogers, after a moment.
"Is it a man's or a woman's handkerchief?"
"Oh, a woman's undoubtedly."
The jury examined it and so did we. It was a small square of fine cambric with no mark that I could see, soaked through and through with blood—unquestionably a woman's handkerchief. Then Rogers told the rest of the story—how he had summoned aid and informed the police.
"Now, Mr. Rogers," said the coroner, when he had finished, "there is one point more. Has there been anything in your knowledge of Mr. Holladay or his business to suggest the idea of suicide?"
The witness shook his head decidedly.
"Nothing whatever, sir," he said positively. "His business was prospering; he was happy and contented—why, he was planning for a trip abroad with his daughter."
"Let us suppose for a moment," continued Goldberg, "that he did actually stab himself in his daughter's presence; what would you naturally expect her to do?"
"I should expect her to give the alarm—to summon aid," replied Rogers.
"Certainly—unquestionably," and Goldberg nodded to my chief. "I turn the witness over to you, Mr. Royce," he said.
"Now, Mr. Rogers," began our junior impressively, "you know, of course, that this whole case hinges, at present, on your identification of the woman who, presumably, was in Mr. Holladay's office when he was stabbed. I want to be very sure of that identification. Will you tell me how she was dressed?"
The witness paused for a moment's thought.
"She wore a dress of very dark red," he said at last, "with some sort of narrow dark trimming—black, possibly. That's all I can tell you about it."
"And the hat?"
"I didn't notice the hat, sir. I only glanced at her."
"But in that glance, Mr. Rogers, did you see nothing unusual—nothing which suggested to your mind that possibly it might not be Miss Holladay?"
"Nothing, sir."
"Some change of demeanor, perhaps; of expression?"
The witness hesitated.
"I thought she was looking not quite so well as usual," he said slowly. "She seemed a little pale and worried."
"Ah! It was dark in the office, was it not, at five o'clock yesterday afternoon?"
"We had turned on the lights half an hour before, sir."
"Is your office well lighted?"
"I have a light over my desk, sir, and there's another on the wall."
"So you could not see your visitor's face with absolute clearness?"
"No, sir; but quite clearly enough to recognize her," he added doggedly.
"Yet you thought her looking pale and worried."
"Yes, sir; that was my impression."
"And when she asked for Mr. Holladay, did she use the words 'my father,' as your evidence would suggest?"
Again the witness hesitated in the effort at recollection.
"No, sir," he answered finally. "Her words, I think, were, 'Is Mr. Holladay engaged at present?'"
"It was Miss Holladay's voice?"
"I could not say, sir," answered the witness, again mopping the perspiration from his forehead. "I have no wish to incriminate Miss Holladay unnecessarily. I'm not sufficiently well acquainted with her voice to swear to it."
"Well, when you answered her question in the negative, did she hesitate before entering the private office?"
"No, sir; she went straight to it."
"Is there any lettering on the door?"
"Oh, yes, the usual lettering, 'Private Office.'"
"So that, even if she were not acquainted with the place, she might still have seen where to go?"
"Yes, sir; I suppose so."
"And you stated, too, I believe, that you could have heard no sound of an altercation in the private office, had one occurred?"
"No, sir; I could have heard nothing."
"You have been with Mr. Holladay a long time, I believe, Mr. Rogers?"
"Over thirty years, sir."
"And you are intimately acquainted with his affairs?"
"Yes, sir."
"Now, Mr. Rogers, have you ever, in all these years, ran across anything—any item of expenditure, any correspondence, anything whatever—which would lead you to think that Mr. Holladay was a victim of blackmail, or that he had ever had a liaison with a woman?"
"No, sir!" cried the witness. "No, sir! I'm willing to swear that such a thing is not possible. I should inevitably have found it out had it existed."
"That will do for the present," said Mr. Royce. "I shall want to recall the witness, however, sir."
The coroner nodded, and Rogers stepped down, still trembling
