state's attorney stepped to the door.

   "This way, please!" he called, and Mr. Edwards entered the room.

   Farnsworth and Peaslee both studied the man's face closely, although for very different reasons, and both found it sternly uncompromising.

   "Please take a chair, Mr. Edwards," said Paige, and in a swift glance rapidly estimated the man. "Here's some one who won't lie," he thought, impressed.

   "Now," he resumed, "will you kindly tell the members of the grand jury what you know of the case?"

   Mr. Edwards cleared his throat painfully. Determined as he was to let his rebellious boy take whatever punishment his mistaken course might bring, he now began to wish that the punishment would be light. His confidence that Jim needed only to be pushed a little to confess was somewhat shaken, and the charge

   was really serious. He felt a desire to explain, to palliate, to minimize.

   "Gentlemen," he said, "my boy's always been a good boy. I can't believe that he meant to hurt Lamoury or any one else. It must have been some accident—"

   "Facts, please," said Paige, crisply.

   Mr. Peaslee caught his breath indignantly. He had been entirely in sympathy with Mr. Edwards's soft mode of approaching his story. Paige seemed to him unfeeling.

   "I will answer any questions," said Mr. Edwards, stiffening.

   "Did you hear any shot fired?" began Paige.

   "Yes."

   "Where were you?"

   "I was asleep in the room above Jim's."

   "Was Jim in his room?"

   "I suppose so."

   "You suppose so. Don't you know?"

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