In some way I had to save Helen if only for mother's sake. After all, Woods, too, had threatened Jim. He knew Jim had proof of his dishonesty. He had made the engagement and had asked Jim to come alone. At this point of my review of the facts I decided to tell the jury all. If Woods was at the country-club the entire evening he would be able to establish a complete alibi and my testimony would not hurt him, while it might be enough, if I could make it so, to hold the jury until Helen could testify. Hearing steps outside, I turned to see the object of my mental attentions walk into the room. "You here, Woods?" I queried. "Yes. Those admirable servants of your sister's gave the police just enough of the vulgar details of that meeting between Felderson and myself to make them think I--well, they ordered me to report and here I am." He looked worried and irritable. For the first time I realized what the man must have gone through during the last few days, with his business troubles and Helen's injury. How he had met his obligations without Helen's money, I didn't know. "I should have thought you'd have been glad to testify to save Helen from an indictment." Woods whirled around. "You don't mean to say there's a chance of that, Thompson? Why, she didn't do it, she couldn't have done it. She--she isn't capable of doing such a thing. It's monstrous. I've read the rot that _The Sun_ has been printing, but I didn't think--I can't think any one would take it seriously." A gray shadow seemed to fall across his face. "Felderson was shot from behind and Helen was the only one with him," I threw out, watching Woods closely to see what effect my words would have on him. The man looked as though he knew more about the crime than I had supposed. "I know that! But haven't people sense enough to see that Helen is utterly incapable of such an act. Good God, they must be blind!" I was brought back to the business on hand by hearing my name shouted. They must have let Mary out by another door for when I entered the jury room she was not there. It was hot and stuffy, smelling of stale tobacco and staler clothing. I noticed that the jurymen seemed deeply interested and that they were, for the most part, a rather intelligent lot. The foreman, a near-sighted business-looking person, seemed to radiate sympathy through his glasses. The district attorney, Kirkpatrick, knew Jim well, had his help often and was one of his best friends. "What is your name?" he asked. "Warren Thompson." "Your address?" "Eleven thirty-two Grant Avenue." "Your business?" "I am a lawyer," I responded. The district attorney seated himself at a table and arranged some papers before him. "You were what relation to the deceased?" "The brother-in-law," I replied. "Mr. Thompson," the attorney began, leaning on the table in front of him, "will you please tell the jury if there was any unhappiness in the married life of your sister and brother-in-law?"