As Hanscom assisted the accused woman from the wagon he detected youth and vigor in her arm. "Don't be afraid," he repeated. "I will see that you are treated right." Her hand clung to his for an instant as she considered the throng of hostile spectators, for she apprehended their hatred quite as clearly as she perceived the chivalrous care of the ranger, and she kept close to his side as he led the way to the cabin. Kauffman was at once taken indoors, but the young woman, under guard of a deputy, was given a seat on the corner of the porch just out of hearing of the coroner's voice. Carmody, who carried all the authority, if not all the forms, of a court into his interrogation, sharply questioned the old man, who said that his name was Frederick Kauffman and that he was a teacher of music. "I was born near Munich," he added, "but I have lived in this country forty years, mostly in Cincinnati. This young lady is my stepdaughter. It is for her health that I came here. She has been very ill." Carmody nodded to the sheriff, and Throop with a deep sigh and most dramatic gesture lifted the shroud which concealed the dead man. "Approach the body," commanded the coroner, and the jurors watched every motion with wide, excited eyes, as though expecting involuntary signs of guilt; but Kauffman calmly gazed upon the still face beneath him. "Do you recognize this body?" demanded the coroner. "I do," said Kauffman. "When did you see him last?" "Oh, two or three days ago," answered Kauffman. "You may be seated," said the coroner. Under close interrogation the old man admitted that he had had some trouble with Watson. "Once I forced him to leave my premises," he said. "He was drunk and insulting." "Did you employ a weapon?" "Only this "--here he lifted a sturdy fist--"but it was sufficient. I have not forgotten my gymnastic training." Prompted by Kitsong, who had assumed something of the attitude of a prosecuting attorney, the coroner asked, "Has your daughter ever been in an asylum?" Although this question plainly disturbed him, Kauffman replied, after a moment's hesitation, "No, sir." "Where were you last night?" "At home." "Was your daughter there?" "Yes." "All the evening?" "Yes, sir." "Are you sure she did not leave the house?" "Perfectly sure." The coroner took up a small rifle which the sheriff had leaned against the wall. "Is this your rifle?" The old man examined it. "I think so--yes, sir." "Have you another?" "No, sir." "That is all for the present, Mr. Kauffman. Sheriff, ask Miss Kauffman to come in."