Dropping the handkerchief upon the
dead man's neck the coroner stepped to an angle of
the room and from a pile of clothing produced one
garment after another, each of which he held up a
moment for inspection. All were torn, and stiff with
blood. The jurors did not make a closer inspection.
They seemed rather uninterested. They had, in
truth, seen all this before; the only thing that was
new to them being Harker's testimony.
'Gentlemen,' the coroner said, 'we have no more
evidence, I think. Your duty has been already ex-
plained to you; if there is nothing you wish to ask
you may go outside and consider your verdict.'
The foreman rose--a tall, bearded man of sixty,
coarsely clad.
'I should like to ask one question, Mr. Coroner,'
he said. 'What asylum did this yer last witness
escape from?'
'Mr. Harker,' said the coroner gravely and tran-
quilly, 'from what asylum did you last escape? '
Harker flushed crimson again, but said nothing,
and the seven jurors rose and solemnly filed out of
the cabin.
'If you have done insulting me, sir,' said Harker,
as soon as he and the officer were left alone with
the dead man, 'I suppose I am at liberty to go?'
'Yes.'
Harker started to leave, but paused, with his hand
on the door latch. The habit of his profession was
strong in him--stronger than his sense of personal
dignity. He turned about and said:
'The book that you have there--I recognize it as
Morgan's diary.
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