We await your verdict."
The jury filed slowly out, and I watched them anxiously. In face of
the coroner's instructions, they could bring in but one verdict; yet I
knew from experience that a jury is ever an unknown quantity, often
producing the most unexpected results.
The district attorney came down from his seat and shook hands with
both of us.
"That was a great stroke!" he said, with frank admiration. "Whatever
made you suspect?"
Mr. Royce handed him the note for answer. He read it through, and
stared back at us in astonishment.
"Why," he began, "who wrote this?"
"That's the note that was delivered to us a while ago," answered Mr.
Royce. "You know as much about it as we do. But it seems to me a
pretty important piece of evidence. I turn it over to you."
"Important!" cried Singleton. "I should say so! Why, gentlemen," and
his eyes were gleaming, "this was written either by an accomplice or
by the woman herself!"
My chief nodded.
"Precisely," he said. "I'd get on the track of the writer without
delay."
Singleton turned and whispered a few words to a clerk, who hurried
from the room. Then he motioned to two smooth-faced, well-built men
who sat near by, spoke a word to the coroner, and retired with them
into the latter's private office. The reporters crowded about us with
congratulations and questions.
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