Mr. Gifning, Mr. Battle and Mr. Carden, who were the first to reach Balfame, after he fell, were forced by the district attorney to give damning evidence against Mrs. Balfame. Her room was in the front of the house; if in it, she could have heard the shot as plainly as they on Mr. Gifning's veranda. But she did not come downstairs or manifest herself in any way until they had had time to summon the coroner (who to be sure lived round the corner) and Dr. Lequeur. It must have been quite six minutes before she opened her window and demanded the reason for the disturbance at her gate. At least, it had seemed that long. No, they never confused a revolver-shot with a bursting tire. They had when cars first came into use, but they had learned to differentiate long since. When Mr. Rush asked them sarcastically why one at least of the party had not searched the grove and attempted to capture the murderer, they replied they had by no means been sure that the shot had come from the grove. It might have come from anywhere. It was only after the doctor's examination that the direction of the bullet had been agreed upon. Later they did search the grove with a dark-lantern brought from Mrs. Gifning's house; in fact, they searched every inch of the grounds, and their only reward was abuse from the police. These three witnesses, examined after the noon recess, occupied very little time. It was at ten minutes to four that the district attorney electrified every one in the courtroom by calling to the stand a man whose name up to that moment had not been mentioned in the case. The reporters looked deeply annoyed; even Mrs. Balfame raised her head a trifle higher as if listening; Rush's pale face was paler, the lines in it seemed deeper, as he sprang to his feet, alert at once, his nostrils expanding. The district attorney balanced himself on his heels, his thumbs in his waistcoat armholes, a grin of triumph on his sharp little face. The name called was James Mott, and it was borne by a highly reputable drummer who had made sales for many years to houses carrying general merchandise, including that of Balfame & Cummack. Mr. Mott was as well known in Brabant County as any of its inhabitants; in fact, he was engaged to an estimable young lady of Elsinore, and hence, so it soon transpired, had happened to be in town on the fatal night. For once the acumen of the district attorney had proved more penetrating than that of the brilliant counsel for the defence. Mr. Mott took the stand. He was a clean-shaven upstanding American with the keen eye and grim mouth of the travelling salesman who knows that he must do or die. He looked as honest as urbane, and for the first time Mrs. Balfame's heart sank; and her hands, so the women reporters noted for the benefit of the public, clenched for a full minute.