"A key ring, on the porch by the door. After the leather case of the key-holder had been checked for fingerprints, I tried the keys. They fitted the Pontiac and the outside doors of the Doherty house--those doors were all locked at that time, when Sergeant Peterson and I arrived there. On the driveway, near the opening of the path into the woods, I found a woman's blue handbag, monogrammed A.P.D. Its catch was open, and a lipstick pencil and compact had tumbled out." "Did you check the other contents of the handbag?" "Yes, sir." Sergeant Shields at last opened his notebook. "Lipstick pencil of a light shade, gold compact monogrammed A.P.D., one handkerchief unused, three Kleenex folded, engagement book of red imitation leather, mechanical pencil with chromium finish, single stub from motion picture theater, fifteen dollars in bills, one dollar and fourteen cents in coin in change purse, page torn from a memorandum pad with date August 15, 1959 and with writing evidently a grocery list, four bobby pins, a scrap of green rayon possibly a dressgoods sample, identification card belonging with handbag but not filled out, a--a paper clip." Warner watched the histrionic tenderness of T. J. Hunter's hands. They moved over the already identified garments, not quite touching but with the sense of a caress. Corn, of course, but how marvelously served up! Gently the hands lifted a plastic bag. "Sergeant, this bag has a tag with your initials--is this your identifying mark?" "Yes, sir." "And do you identify what I show you here, a woman's blue slipper, size five?" "That is the slipper I found on the path in the woods, between the pond and the Doherty house, the morning of last August 17th." _Sit still, Old Man!_ No protest possible that the jury would not resent. How can you make legal protest against the gentleness of a pair of hands? Against a voice that by its very restraint compels the subject to cry aloud? Ann's garments, her poor fallen possessions, needed no advocate: four bobby pins, a paper clip. Best to sit still, the face a little hidden, as Callista was still, and hidden. And to wait, because the defense never rests. "Your witness, Mr. Warner." He wondered whether it was worth the trouble of rising. Maybe. As a fact-lover, the Sergeant understood the existence of grays between black and white. One dim blur of gray across the clarity of Shields' testimony might stir a slight wonder in a few jurors. "Sergeant, when you found Dr. Chalmers on the back porch, did you speak first?" "Yes, sir." Quite as polite as he had been to the prosecution. "He roused at once and answered you?" "He did, sir." Yes, polite, and well aware of what was coming. Mildness and indifference were needed here: "What did he say?" Then the expected noise: "Objection! This conversation wasn't introduced in direct examination." Mildness, indifference? "Your Honor, I submit that the substance of the conversation was introduced."