The Coroner: "Since you were examined on Monday, have you continued your search in Mr. Samuel Boyd's house?" Dick: "Yes, I have carefully searched every room, every cupboard, every drawer." "Have you found any jewels?" "None." "Any bills of acceptance?" "None." "Nothing of any value?" "Nothing." "Look at this visiting card which was presented to Lady Wharton on Thursday night in Bournemouth. Do you recognise it as one of Mr. Samuel Boyd's regular visiting cards?" "It is exactly like. There are thirty or forty similar cards in a drawer in the writing table." "You are doubtless familiar with Mr. Boyd's handwriting?" "I was very familiar with it, but that is some time ago. I may err in my recollection of it." "So far as your recollection serves is this letter received by Lady Wharton on the 6th of March, and dated the 5th, in his writing?" "It cannot be his writing because on the 5th of March he was dead." "Confine yourself strictly to answering the questions put to you. Should you say it was in Mr. Samuel Boyd's handwriting?" Dick examined the letter with great care. He had in his pocket at that very moment proof positive in the shape of the incriminating document written by Samuel Boyd only a few hours before he was murdered, the production of which would have caused Reginald's instant arrest. The writing on the letter was like it, and he would have given much to be able to compare them. After a long pause he said, "It looks like his writing, but I am not an expert in caligraphy." The Coroner made a gesture as if he had exhausted his questions, and Dick was about to step back, when the Juror interposed. The Juror: "Have you found a pistol of any kind in the house?" "Now, who is prompting you?" thought Dick, as he confronted the Juror, a sallow-faced, pock-marked man, with an aggressive voice. "No," he answered aloud, "I found no pistol." The Juror: "The detective officer who has been examined spoke of a recently fired bullet which he extracted from the wall of the office. How is it that in your evidence on Monday you said nothing of this bullet?" Dick: "In the first place, because I was not asked. In the second place, because on Monday nothing was known about it." There was a titter in Court at this, and the juror flushed up and was silent. The Coroner: "When was the bullet found?" Dick: "Yesterday." "It had escaped your notice before the detective officer pointed it out?" "It was I who first pointed it out. We were examining the wall together when I said, 'What is this?' My question led to the discovery of the bullet." The Coroner: "Call Mr. Reginald Boyd." A firm pressure of Florence's hand, and Reginald faced the jury. Dick moved a little nearer to the young wife, whose heart was throbbing violently. Reginald was very pale, and traces of the sickness he had passed through were visible in his face, though he bore himself with composure. The Coroner: "You have been ill, and probably would like to be seated."