Although nothing could be more simple or unpretending than the attire of Mary Monson, it was clearly that of a lady. Everything about her denoted that station, or origin; though everything about her, as Dunscomb fancied, also denoted a desire to bring herself down, as nearly as possible, to the level of those around her, most probably that she might not attract particular attention. Our lawyer did not exactly like this slight proof of management, and wished it were not so apparent. He could see the hands, feet, figure, hair, and general air of the female he was so strangely called on to make the subject of his investigations, but he could not yet see her face. The last was again covered with a cambric handkerchief, the hand which held it being ungloved. It was a pretty little American hand; white, well-proportioned, and delicate. It was clear, that neither its proportions nor its colour had been changed by uses unsuited to its owner’s sex or years. But it had no ring, in this age of be-jewelled fingers. It was the left hand, moreover, and the fourth finger, like all the rest, had no ornament, or sign of matrimony. He inferred from this, that the stranger was unmarried; one of the last things that a wife usually lays aside being her wedding-ring. The foot corresponded with the hand, and was decidedly the smallest, best-formed, and best-decorated foot in Biberry. John Wilmeter thought it the prettiest he had ever seen. It was not studiously exhibited, however, but rested naturally and gracefully in its proper place. The figure generally, so far as a capacious shawl would allow of its being seen, was pleasing, graceful, and a little remarkable for accuracy of proportions, as well as of attire. Once or twice Mrs. Jones spoke to her companion; and it was when answering some question thus put, that Dunscomb first got a glimpse of his intended client’s face. The handkerchief was partly removed, and remained so long enough to enable him to make a few brief observations. It was then that he felt the perfect justice of his friend’s description. It was an indescribable countenance, in all things but its effect; which was quite as marked on the lawyer, as it had been on the physician. But the arrival of Dr. Coe put an end to these observations, and drew all eyes on that individual, who was immediately sworn. The customary preliminary questions were put to this witness, respecting his profession, length of practice, residence, &c., when the examination turned more on the matter immediately under investigation. “You see those objects on the table, doctor?” said the coroner. “What do you say they are?” “_Ossa hominum_; human bones, much defaced and charred by heat.” “Do you find any proof about them of violence committed, beyond the damage done by fire?” “Certainly. There is the _os frontis_ of each fractured by a blow; a common blow, as I should judge.” “What do you mean, sir, by a common blow? An accidental, or an intentional blow?”