The Greatest Works of Anna Katharine Green. Анна Грин

and measures and some particulars were stated, and as the order bore the words In haste underlined upon it, several clerks had assisted him in filling this order, which when filled had been sent by special messenger to the place designated.

      Had he this order with him?

      He had.

      And could he identify the articles sent to fill it?

      He could.

      At which the Coroner motioned to an officer and a pile of clothing was brought forward from some mysterious corner and laid before the witness.

      Immediately expectation rose to a high pitch, for every one recognized, or thought he did, the apparel which had been taken from the victim.

      The young man, who was of the alert, nervous type, took up the articles one by one and examined them closely.

      As he did so, the whole assembled crowd surged forward and lightning-like glances from a hundred eyes followed his every movement and expression.

      “Are they the same?” inquired the Coroner.

      The witness did not hesitate. With one quick glance at the blue serge dress, black cape, and battered hat, he answered in a firm tone:

      “They are.”

      And a clue was given at last to the dreadful mystery absorbing us.

      The deep-drawn sigh which swept through the room testified to the universal satisfaction; then our attention became fixed again, for the Coroner, pointing to the undergarments accompanying the articles already mentioned, demanded if they had been included in the order.

      There was as little hesitation in the reply given to this question as to the former. He recognized each piece as having come from his establishment. “You will note,” said he, “that they have never been washed, and that the pencil marks are still on them.”

      “Very good,” observed the Coroner, “and you will note that one article there is torn down the back. Was it in that condition when sent?”

      “It was not, sir.”

      “All were in perfect order?”

      “Most assuredly, sir.”

      “Very good, again. The jury will take cognizance of this fact, which may be useful to them in their future conclusions. And now, Mr. Callahan, do you notice anything lacking here from the list of articles forwarded by you?”

      “No, sir.”

      “Yet there is one very necessary adjunct to a woman’s outfit which is not to be found here.”

      “Yes, sir, the shoes; but I am not surprised at that. We sent shoes, but they were not satisfactory, and they were returned.”

      “Ah, I see. Officer, show the witness the shoes that were taken from the deceased.”

      This was done, and when Mr. Callahan had examined them, the Coroner inquired if they came from his store. He replied no.

      Whereupon they were held up to the jury, and attention called to the fact that, while rather new than old, they gave signs of having been worn more than once; which was not true of anything else taken from the victim.

      This matter settled, the Coroner proceeded with his questions.

      “Who carried the articles ordered, to the address given?”

      “A man in our employ, named Clapp.”

      “Did he bring back the amount of the bill?”

      “Yes, sir; less the five dollars charged for the shoes.”

      “What was the amount, may I ask?”

      “Here is our cash-book, sir. The amount received from Mrs. James Pope, Hotel D——, on the seventeenth of September, is, as you see, seventy-five dollars and fifty-eight cents.”

      “Let the jury see the book; also the order.”

      They were both handed to the jury, and if ever I wished myself in any one’s shoes, save my own very substantial ones, it was at that moment. I did so want a peep at that order.

      It seemed to interest the jury also, for their heads drew together very eagerly over it, and some whispers and a few knowing looks passed between them. Finally one of them spoke:

      “It is written in a very odd hand. Do you call this a woman’s writing or a man’s?”

      “I have no opinion to give on the subject,” rejoined the witness. “It is intelligible writing, and that is all that comes within my province.”

      The twelve men shifted on their seats and surveyed the Coroner eagerly. Why did he not proceed? Evidently he was not quick enough to suit them.

      “Have you any further questions for this witness?” asked that gentleman after a short delay.

      Their nervousness increased, but no one ventured to follow the Coroner’s suggestion. A poor lot, I call them, a very poor lot! I would have found plenty of questions to put to him.

      I expected to see the man Clapp called next, but I was disappointed in this. The name uttered was Henshaw, and the person who rose in answer to it was a tall, burly man with a shock of curly black hair. He was the clerk of the Hotel D——, and we all forgot Clapp in our eagerness to hear what this man had to say.

      His testimony amounted to this:

      That a person by the name of Pope was registered on his books. That she came to his house on the seventeenth of September, some time near noon. That she was not alone; that a person she called her husband accompanied her, and that they had been given a room, at her request, on the second floor overlooking Broadway.

      “Did you see the husband? Was it his handwriting we see in your register?”

      “No, sir. He came into the office, but he did not approach the desk. It was she who registered for them both, and who did all the business in fact. I thought it queer, but took it for granted he was ill, for he held his head very much down, and acted as if he felt disturbed or anxious.”

      “Did you notice him closely? Would you be able to identify him on sight?”

      “No, sir, I should not. He looked like a hundred other men I see every day: medium in height and build, with brown hair and brown moustache. Not noticeable in any way, sir, except for his hang-dog air and evident desire not to be noticed.”

      “But you saw him later?”

      “No, sir. After he went to his room he stayed there, and no one saw him. I did not even see him when he left the house. His wife paid the bill and he did not come into the office.”

      “But you saw her well; you would know her again?”

      “Perhaps, sir; but I doubt it. She wore a thick veil when she came in, and though I might remember her voice, I have no recollection of her features for I did not see them.”

      “You can give a description of her dress, though; surely you must have looked long enough at a woman who wrote her own and her husband’s name in your register, for you to remember her clothes.”

      “Yes, for they were very simple. She had on what is called a gossamer, which covered her from neck to toe, and on her head a hat wrapped all about with a blue veil.”

      “So that she might have worn any dress under that gossamer?”

      “Yes, sir.”

      “And any hat under that veil?”

      “Any one that was large enough, sir.”

      “Very good. Now, did you see her hands?”

      “Not to remember them.”

      “Did she have gloves on?”

      “I