“Was it in the same condition then as now?” “It was wet with dew and the rust is deeper now than then; otherwise it is in the same condition.” “Call Margaret Flanders.” At the name, Jim Shepard, who had taken a seat in the main room upon concluding his testimony, turned the colour of a peony and a giggle was started among a group of boys near him. Margaret Flanders, a buxom, healthy lass of about twenty, tripped into the room as if in enjoyment of the sensation she was creating. In answer to questions, her testimony ran: She lived at home, with her parents, on Canaan Street; the left-hand side as you went from River Road. Jim Shepard came sometimes to see her and was with her the evening of May tenth. He was going to Portland to work and he was to take the midnight train. He stayed till his cousin Jonathan Oldbeg called for him. It was then so late that she was afraid he would miss his train. Indeed, there was only five minutes to spare when he left the house. She waited on the front stoop till she heard the train go and then went to her room, which was on the second floor in the northwest corner, the nearest River Road and the Parlin house. She went right to bed, was in bed by quarter-past twelve, probably, and went right to sleep. Had slept a few minutes when she was wakened by a sound like a pistol shot. She jumped out of bed and went to the window, which was open, for she always liked plenty of fresh air; but saw nothing and heard nothing. There was a light in the Parlin house and she thought it was in the library, but could not tell certainly. She was at the window only a few minutes, when the clock struck one, but whether it was half-past twelve or one o’clock she could not tell. Then she went back to bed and fell asleep, and heard nothing more to disturb her that night. The coroner announced that this closed his witnesses, but at the request of the county attorney he recalled Mrs. Parlin. The county attorney put his questions through the coroner. “Have you ever had any question as to the genuineness of the statement which purports to be in the handwriting of your husband?” “None whatever.” “Was your husband accustomed to leave important papers without date or signature?” “This paper is in Judge Parlin’s handwriting.” “I hand you a letter here with the signature turned down. Can you identify the handwriting?” “I think it is the handwriting of Theodore Wing.” “Can you state positively?” “I cannot: but I have little doubt.” “I hand you another. Whose handwriting is that?” “Judge Parlin’s.” “Are you positive?” “Positive.” “Are you certain that the first letter is not in the handwriting of your late husband?” “It may possibly be; but I think it is in Mr. Wing’s handwriting.” “There was then a very strong resemblance between the handwriting of your late husband and that of Mr. Wing?”