“That’s saying a great deal, but I was certainly one of them. We have known each other from boyhood, and though we bandied words now and then, we never had a real quarrel in our lives.” “You owed him money?” Harper Ames’s eyes flashed, and he seemed about to fly into a rage. Then, apparently thinking better of it, he calmed down and said, quietly, but sullenly still: “Yes, though I don’t know that it’s your business. Tracy has let me owe him money for a long time, and as he had no objections to it, I can’t see your right to inquire about it.” “Yes, I have a right,” Hart said, “and I propose to use it. How much did you owe him?” “Some thousands,” and now Ames’s frown became a real scowl. “And his will gives you a bequest of many thousands. It is a fortunate occurrence for you.” I thought and still think that Harper Ames had a right to get angry at the Coroner. If Hart suspected his witness he should have said so, and not cast these innuendoes at him. Yet Ames said nothing. He contented himself with such a venomous glance of hatred at the Coroner, that I shivered at the sight. Keeley Moore, too, looked amazed at the way things were going. Then we both realized that this was doubtless Hart’s first murder case. Such things didn’t often happen up here in the peaceful lake region, and the sudden responsibility and authority had rather gone to Hart’s head and made him a little uncertain of procedure. Next he flung out the query, “Are you a good diver?” At this Ames gave a sardonic smile. “No,” he returned, “I am not. To begin with I didn’t kill Sampson Tracy, I didn’t jump out of the window of his locked room, and I didn’t bedeck his bed with flowers and ornaments. If these are the things you want to know, I am telling you.” “Yes,” and the Coroner’s air was imperturbable, “but I have only your unsupported word for all that.” Harper Ames stared at him as if he would like to drive a nail into his half-witted head, and then, drawing himself up with a new dignity, he said: “That is true, Mr. Coroner. But I can’t bring forward any witnesses to prove my statements. That is why I have been trying to engage the services of the famous Mr. Moore to take on this case, and to discover the true murderer of Sampson Tracy, for only such a course will prove the innocence of other suspects.” This was fine talk, but to me it didn’t ring true. If Ames had done the foul deed himself, he might have put forth this very line of argument. He might have demanded the services of a great detective, feeling sure nobody could detect his guilt. Well, it wasn’t up to me to decide these things. A few more inquiries of small importance finished up Ames’s testimony and then Mrs. Dallas was questioned.