Nearly the same gathering was admitted to the courtroom on the second day as on the first. But, wedged in between Mrs. Arnold and the unknown woman in black, Emily had pointed out to her the famous novelist Ecks, who sat with his head inclined toward the still more famous playwright Wye. Wye was mooting volubly the chain of testimony which had been spun around the accused on the foregoing day, which seemed to possess for him all the circumscribed but inexhaustible interest of the chessboard or a dramatic intrigue. But Ecks was sketching in pencil the principal characters of the trial.

"We shall summon Mr. McCausland again," said the district attorney. "At present we surrender him to the counsel for the accused."

A keen glance shot from lawyer to witness, comparing the two great opponents. Shagarach's face was a mask, stern and impenetrable, but McCausland visibly braced himself for the encounter. Equal they might be in a sense, as Mount Everest is the peer of the Amazon, but as different in their spheres as the river and the mountain. In the detective's subtle eye the keen observer might have discovered a finesse and a suppleness not altogether remote from the corresponding traits in the cracksman whom he had impersonated. But Shagarach could no more have counterfeited Bill Dobbs than McCausland could have acted with success the role of Count L'Alienado.

"Would you hang a kitten on the evidence of a burned match, inspector?" asked the lawyer.

"If he were old enough to scratch it," answered the detective.

"Will you turn out the contents of your upper right vest pocket?"

McCausland's face became rosy with embarrassment, but he obeyed the request. A ripple of laughter went around when among the broken-up fractions of a card of lucifers there appeared one that was blackened at the end. The inspector allowed the merriment to die, then coolly remarked:

"It is the match I found on Floyd."

And it was felt that he had held his own.

"Phineas Fowler," called the district attorney. The old chemist tottered to the stand and held a parchment hand high in air while the clerk administered his oath.

"What is your business, Mr. Fowler?"

The pantaloon trembled visibly and twisted the two horns of his forked board one after the other with nervous fingers, blinking about all the while like an old Rosicrucian projected into the daylight world.

"A chemist," he piped, in a treble so high that the thoughtless smiled, but so feeble the chief justice bent forward to hear and the stenographer requested him to raise his voice. Ecks began sketching away rapidly at the advent of this character. The very odor of acids seemed to exhale from his shivering person.

"What lines of trade do you supply?"

"Photographers, dyers, armorers——"

"The last class with explosives and fulminating compounds, I presume?"

"Also with oils and varnishes," answered the pantaloon, his voice breaking in the desperate effort he made to be audible.

"Would you call him senile or venerable?" whispered Ecks.

"He must have sold Floyd the powder," answered Wye, intent on the imbroglio.

"Have you ever met the accused?"

"Yes, sir."

"When and where?"

"In my office twice."

"What was the date of the first visit of the accused to your office?"

"June 23."

"And of the second?"

"June 27."

"On what business did the accused call to see you, Mr. Fowler?"

"He was inquiring about bombs," answered the witness, a strong back-country twang coming out as he proceeded and adding to his other peculiarities.

"What did he especially desire to know about bombs?"

"How they were made."

"Were you able to inform him? Have you made a study of this subject?"

"Oh, yes. There's nothing mysterious about it."

"You entered into a minute discussion, then, with Floyd on the subject of bomb-making?"

"Well, no; I answered his questions. Didn't volunteer nothing." Mr. Fowler grew reckless of the niceties of speech as he accelerated his replies. "Don't believe it's a proper matter to be preached from the housetops."

"Your room is tolerably near the top of the house, however?"

"Top story, sir."

"Well, proper or improper, what was the upshot of your conversation?"

"He was coming again and I was to sell him some powder."

"Anything else?"

"Yes, three feet of fuse."

"Will you describe this fuse?"

"Why it's just common fuse, made out of linen cloth, sprinkled with a slow-burning mixture—nitre, sulphur and a little powder—sheathed in rubber and fitted into a metal plug."

"You sold Floyd three feet of this fuse?"

"Yes, sir."

"And how much of the powder?"

"Two pounds."

"Common gunpowder?"

"Yes, sir; American army powder."

"You were to sell him these commodities, you say. Did he actually return and purchase them?"

"Yes, sir; I had them all done up when he called again."

"Called on June 27, as he had promised to?"

"Called on June 27, sir."

"Which was the day before the fire and the day after his uncle's funeral, according to Dr. Thornton's testimony as to the date."

"I dare say you are right, sir," squeaked the pantaloon, who evidently stood in trepidation of his burly examiner.

"For what purpose did you understand that the accused wanted this powder and this fuse?"

"Told me he wanted to make some sort of a bomb."

"Did he ask you for particular directions?"

"Well, yes."

"Did you furnish him the shell or envelope of this projected bomb?"

"Oh, no; he said he had a teakittle to hum," said the pantaloon, whereupon the repressed volcano of merriment exploded once more, to the indignation of John Davidson, who occupied a front seat, listening to the testimony of his townsman. The chief justice looked stern and the district attorney's deep bass rumbled on without a pause.

"A teakettle at home. And how was that to be converted into the covering of a bomb?"

"Why, I told him to put the fuse inside and draw it through the nozzle, so the plug would stop up the spout, then shovel in the powder, tamp her up with nails and pellets, fasten down the lid and you have a bomb ready made. The kettle, I understood, was a frail one, hardly stronger than a canister."

"Not a concussion bomb, Mr. Fowler, I suppose?"

"No, sir. Those are filled with dynamite or giant powder. I don't deal in the high explosives."

"This bomb would have to be fired through the fuse?"

"Yes, sir."

"But it would explode with considerable force."

"Well, I guess it would rip things jest a trifle." Here the pantaloon forced the ghost of a smile himself.

"Kindly bring in the safe."

It came in on the shoulders of two stout porters, all breached and battered and bubbled in places, as if the iron had melted like tar.

"The explosion of this shell, the construction of which you have just described, would blast away a very considerable obstacle, you say?"

"Lord, yes! Slit a cannon."

"Would it be sufficient—I ask your opinion as one having experience in this line—would it be sufficient to cause the mutilation visible in that safe?"

"All that and a sight more."

"And the accused gave you to understand that he had undertaken the construction of just such a bomb?"

"I took him so."

"Very well. So much for that. Did you examine the piece of fuse which Mr. McCausland found in the desk occupied by Floyd at the Beacon office?"

"I did."

"What kind of fuse was it?"

"Same as I sold him."

At this point a small piece of fuse, some six inches in length, was submitted to the jury for inspection and passed along from hand to hand.

"And the powder found in it?"

"Same powder."

"And the powder in Floyd's coat pockets?"

"Same powder."

"And the grains on the knees of his trousers, where they may have spilled?"

"Same powder."

"That's the black side of the shield," whispered Ecks, as the district attorney sat down.

"Now for the white," answered Wye.

"It is not part of your regular business, I presume," said Shagarach, "to furnish anarchists with bombs?"

"Oh, no, sir," answered the witness, making corkscrew curls of his beard points.

"Or incendiaries with igniting material?"

"No, sir; never did it before in my life, sir."

"Why did Floyd say he wanted this powder and fuse and information as to the construction of bombs?"

"Said he was studying up anarchism."

"For what purpose?"

"Wanted to write an article on it, he said."

"And you seem to have believed him?"

"At the time, or I wouldn't have sold him the goods."

"What made you believe him?"

The witness paused, puzzled and shifted from foot to foot.

"Well, I can't say, sir, as to his credentials."

"Couldn't he have procured these materials in some less public way if secrecy had been an object with him?"

"Plenty of other ways of getting such things, sir."

"Yet he walked in openly to your office?"

"Yes, sir."

"Told you his name?"

"No, sir."

"Gave you his card?"

"Yes, sir; business card; said he was a reporter."

"Where is the card?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Did you notice the name?"

"No, sir; took no particular notice. Thought it was all right at the time."

"But the young man stated that he was studying up anarchism?"

"And wanted to see for himself just how easy it was to make a bomb."

"That will do."

"Rather an eccentric whim," said Wye. "Putting up a clever defense, though."

"Did you notice how the defendant's jaws are set?" answered Ecks.

"Mr. Hero Leander," called Badger, and the city editor again took the stand.

"Did the Beacon ever give Floyd an assignment to write up anarchy?"

The witness shook his head.

"Mr. McCausland once more," said Badger, while the city editor, whose occupation had taught him to reduce laconicism to a science, rushed off to write up his own somewhat abbreviated testimony for the evening edition of his paper.

"Did you find any manuscript or notes of an article on anarchism in the desk occupied by the accused?"

"None, sir."

"Or in the garments he wore at the time of the fire?"

"None."

"You had no opportunity," asked Shagarach, "after the fire to search Floyd's room at his uncle's house?"

"I wish I had," replied the inspector.

"Then you could not testify that such notes or such a manuscript were not in existence before the fire?"

"I could offer an opinion."

"Mr. Chandler."

In the interim, during which our old acquaintance, the patrolman, was hunted up, the jury curiously examined the powder, which McCausland handed them.

"You recognize this article, Mr. Chandler?" asked Badger, pointing to the safe.

"I do."

"You removed it or had it removed from the ruins of the Arnold house after the fire?"

"Acting under Mr. McCausland's instructions, I did so."

"It presented the same appearance as now?"

"As far as I know."

"The safe will be removed to the jury-room later for inspection," said Badger.

"What was the date of Prof. Arnold's death, Mr. Chandler?" asked Shagarach.

"He died on a Tuesday. Let me see. The fire was on the 28th; then it must have been the 24th."

"How is that competent, your honor?" objected Badger.

"Perhaps Mr. Shagarach can explain its relevancy," said Chief Justice Playfair.

"Easily, your honor. Fowler, the chemist, has testified that Floyd's first visit was on the 23d, which was Monday. His uncle died on Tuesday, suddenly and unexpectedly. The prosecution asks us to believe that the accused either foresaw in some occult manner his uncle's death or contemplated blowing up the house while his uncle was still alive."

"Admit the testimony," said the judge.

"District Chief Wotherspoon," called the district attorney, relieving his assistant. The witness was rugged and weather-beaten and his uniform was not brushed for inspection. He had just answered an alarm.

"You had charge of the fire forces in the early part of the Arnold fire, did you not?"

"Yes, sir; until Chief McKay arrived I was senior officer."

"Do you recall the explosions which took place?"

"Perfectly."

"How many in number were the explosions?"

"Two."

"Two distinct explosions?"

"Yes, sir."

"Will you state to the best of your knowledge the portion of the burning buildings from which the explosions came?"

"The first one was a single discharge. It came from the second story of the Arnold house."

"Where the study was located?"

"Yes, sir."

"You feel positive?"

"I do. I was climbing a ladder at the time and was thrown off my hold by the shock."

"And the second of the explosions?"

"The second came after an interval and was different in character—more like the setting-off of a bunch of firecrackers, but greatly exaggerated in the volume of sound. There can be no doubt this was the fireworks shop in the adjoining building."

"But the first one positively came from the study?"

"Positively."

"A very loud report?"

"Very loud."

"Such as might have been caused by the explosion of the bomb Mr. Fowler described?"

"I should say so."

"At what time," asked Shagarach, "did the explosion take place? How long after you arrived?"

"I couldn't say exactly; a few minutes."

"One?"

"More than one."

"Two?"

"Yes."

"Three?"

"Possibly."

"And when did you arrive?"

"At 3:32."

"How long had the fire been going when you arrived?"

"As nearly as I could estimate from the headway, about five minutes. Opinions varied a good deal on that point."

"Let us say five and add the three which elapsed before you heard the explosion. Then if there were a bomb in the study or library and its fuse were lighted at the start of the fire that fuse must have burned for eight minutes before it reached the powder."

"He's a genius," exclaimed Wye, but Ecks was sketching Shagarach's forehead and did not answer.

"I suppose so," said the fireman.

"A somewhat incombustible fuse. But if the fuse were not lighted at the start then presumably the fire started at the opposite end of the room and worked its way slowly toward the fuse?"

"Presumably."

"Even so, it seems likely that the fuse must have been boxed up tightly or it would have caught earlier."

"It certainly does to me, sir, though I haven't given the subject any thought."

"It is not a difficult one," said Shagarach. "Wouldn't you say, then, that this fire must have been started by some one who was ignorant that there was a bomb in the room in close proximity to the safe? Otherwise he would have lighted the fuse."

"Perhaps."

"And consequently by some one else than Floyd?"

"I object," said the district attorney. He ought to have objected long before, since Shagarach's previous question was wholly out of order, but his attention had been distracted by McCausland.

"If it had been the incendiary's desire to secure a gradual spread of the flames, so as to permit himself ample time to escape, while at the same time insuring the destruction of the safe, would it not have been prudent for him to apply the match at the other end of the room, as he appears to have done?" asked the district attorney. But Shagarach objected to this in his turn and the two questions were left unanswered, locking horns like tangled stags in the minds of the wondering jurors.

"May I add one further question to my cross-examination of Mr. Fowler?" asked Shagarach, when the fireman was dismissed.

"How long, Mr. Fowler, would it take for that bomb to explode after the tip of the fuse had ignited?"

"About a minute," answered the chemist.

"For the present," said the district attorney, "we are obliged to rest this portion of the case. The fatality which has pursued all the occupants of the Arnold house, even to the discharged coachman, Dennis Mungovan, has deprived us by Miss Lund's death of a witness who would have directly and immediately connected the bomb which Floyd constructed with the mutilated safe. This afternoon we shall enter upon a different phase of the subject—namely, an earlier attempt on the part of the accused to obtain possession of the will."