THE proceedings began at ten o'clock. The prisoner was placed atthe Bar, before the High Court of Justiciary, at Edinburgh. Hebowed respectfully to the Bench, and pleaded Not Guilty, in a lowvoice.

It was observed by every one present that the prisoner's facebetrayed traces of acute mental suffering. He was deadly pale.His eyes never once wandered to the crowd in the Court. Whencertain witnesses appeared against him, he looked at them with amomentary attention. At other times he kept his eyes on theground. When the evidence touched on his wife's illness anddeath, he was deeply affected, and covered his face with hishands. It was a subject of general remark and general surprisethat the prisoner, in this case (although a man), showed far lessself-possession than the last prisoner tried in that Court formurder--a woman, who had been convicted on overwhelming evidence.There were persons present (a small minority only) who consideredthis want of composure on the part of the prisoner to be a signin his favor. Self-possession, in his dreadful position,signified, to their minds, the stark insensibility of a heartlessand shameless criminal, and afforded in itself a presumption, notof innocence, but of guilt.

The first witness called was John Daviot, Esquire,Sheriff-Substitute of Mid-Lothian. He was examined by the LordAdvocate (as counsel for the prosecution); and said:

"The prisoner was brought before me on the present charge. Hemade and subscribed a Declaration on the 29th of October. It wasfreely and voluntarily made, the prisoner having been first dulywarned and admonished."

Having identified the Declaration, the Sheriff-Substitute--beingcross-examined by the Dean of Faculty (as counsel for thedefense)--continued his evidence in these words:

"The charge against the prisoner was Murder. This wascommunicated to him before he made the Declaration. The questionsaddressed to the prisoner were put partly by me, partly byanother officer, the procurator-fiscal. The answers were givendistinctly, and, so far as I could judge, without reserve. Thestatements put forward in the Declaration were all made in answerto questions asked by the procurator-fiscal or by myself."

A clerk in the Sheriff-Clerk's office then officially producedthe Declaration, and corroborated the evidence of the witness whohad preceded him.

The appearance of the next witness created a marked sensation inthe Court. This was no less a person than the nurse who hadattended Mrs. Macallan in her last illness--by name ChristinaOrmsay.

After the first formal answers, the nurse (examined by the LordAdvocate) proceeded to say:

"I was first sent for to attend the deceased lady on the 7th ofOctober. She was then suffering from a severe cold, accompaniedby a rheumatic affection of the left knee-joint. Previous to thisI understood that her health had been fairly good. She was not avery difficult person to nurse when you got used to her, andunderstood how to manage her. The main difficulty was caused byher temper. She was not a sullen person; she was headstrong andviolent--easily excited to fly into a passion, and quite recklessin her fits of anger as to what she said or did. At such times Ireally hardly think she knew what she was about. My own idea isthat her temper was made still more irritable by unhappiness inher married life. She was far from being a reserved person.Indeed, she was disposed (as I thought) to be a little toocommunicative about herself and her troubles with persons like mewho were beneath her in station. She did not scruple, forinstance, to tell me (when we had been long enough together toget used to each other) that she was very unhappy, and fretted agood deal about her husband. One night, when she was wakeful andrestless, she said to me--"

The Dean of Faculty here interposed, speaking on the prisoner'sbehalf. He appealed to the Judges to say whether such loose andunreliable evidence as this was evidence which could be receivedby the Court.

The Lord Advocate (speaking on behalf of the Crown) claimed it ashis right to produce the evidence. It was of the utmostimportance in this case to show (on the testimony of anunprejudiced witness) on what terms the husband and wife wereliving. The witness was a most respectable woman. She had won,and deserved, the confidence of the unhappy lady whom sheattended on her death-bed.

After briefly consulting together, the Judges unanimously decidedthat the evidence could not be admitted. What the witness hadherself seen and observed of the relations between the husbandand wife was the only evidence that they could receive.

The Lord Advocate thereupon continued his examination of thewitness. Christina Ormsay resumed her evidence as follows:

"My position as nurse led necessarily to my seeing more of Mrs.Macallan than any other person in the house. I am able to speakfrom experience of many things not known to others who were onlyin her room at intervals.

"For instance, I had more than one opportunity of personallyobserving that Mr. and Mrs. Macallan did not live together veryhappily. I can give you an example of this, not drawn from whatothers told me, but from what I noticed for myself.

"Toward the latter part of my attendance on Mrs. Macallan, ayoung widow lady named Mrs. Beauly--a cousin of Mr.Macallan's--came to stay at Gleninch. Mrs. Macallan was jealousof this lady; and she showed it in my presence only the daybefore her death, when Mr. Macallan came into her room to inquirehow she had passed the night. 'Oh,' she said, 'never mind how _I_have slept! What do you care whether I sleep well or ill? How hasMrs. Beauly passed the night? Is she more beautiful than everthis morning? Go back to her--pray go back to her! Don't wasteyour time with me!' Beginning in that manner, she worked herselfinto one of her furious rages. I was brushing her hair at thetime; and feeling that my presence was an impropriety under thecircumstances, I attempted to leave the room. She forbade me togo. Mr. Macallan felt, as I did, that my duty was to withdraw,and he said so in plain words. Mrs. Macallan insisted on mystaying in language so insolent to her husband that he said, 'Ifyou cannot control yourself, either the nurse leaves the room orI do.' She refused to yield even then. 'A good excuse,' she said,'for getting back to Mrs. Beauly. Go!' He took her at her word,and walked out of the room. He had barely closed the door beforeshe began reviling him to me in the most shocking manner. Shedeclared, among other things she said of him, that the news ofall others which he would be most glad to hear would be the newsof her death. I ventured, quite respectfully, on r emonstratingwith her. She took up the hair-brush and threw it at me, and thenand there dismissed me from my attendance on her. I left her, andwaited below until her fit of passion had worn itself out. Then Ireturned to my place at the bedside, and for a while things wenton again as usual.

"It may not be amiss to add a word which may help to explain Mrs.Macallan's jealousy of her husband's cousin. Mrs. Macallan was avery plain woman. She had a cast in one of her eyes, and (if Imay use the expression) one of the most muddy, blotchycomplexions it was ever my misfortune to see in a person's face.Mrs. Beauly, on the other hand, was a most attractive lady. Hereyes were universally admired, and she had a most beautifullyclear and delicate color. Poor Mrs. Macallan said of her, mostuntruly, that she painted.

"No; the defects in the complexion of the deceased lady were notin any way attributable to her illness. I should call them bornand bred defects in herself.

"Her illness, if I am asked to describe it, I should say wastroublesome--nothing more. Until the last day there were nosymptoms in the least degree serious about the malady that hadtaken her. Her rheumatic knee was painful, of course--acutelypainful, if you like--when she moved it; and the confinement tobed was irksome enough, no doubt. But otherwise there was nothingin the lady's condition, before the fatal attack came, to alarmher or anybody about her. She had her books and her writingmaterials on an invalid table, which worked on a pivot, and couldbe arranged in any position most agreeable to her. At times sheread and wrote a good deal. At other times she lay quiet,thinking her own thoughts, or talking with me, and with one ortwo lady friends in the neighborhood who came regularly to seeher.

"Her writing, so far as I knew, was almost entirely of thepoetical sort. She was a great hand at composing poetry. On oneoccasion only she showed me some of her poems. I am no judge ofsuch things. Her poetry was of the dismal kind, despairing aboutherself, and wondering why she had ever been born, and nonsenselike that. Her husband came in more than once for some hard hitsat his cruel heart and his ignorance of his wife's merits. Inshort, she vented her discontent with her pen as well as with hertongue. There were times--and pretty often too--when an angelfrom heaven would have failed to have satisfied Mrs. Macallan.

"Throughout the period of her illness the deceased lady occupiedthe same room--a large bedroom situated (like all the bestbedrooms) on the first floor of the house.

"Yes: the plan of the room now shown to me is quite accuratelytaken, according to my remembrance of it. One door led into thegreat passage, or corridor, on which all the doors opened. Asecond door, at one side (marked B on the plan), led to Mr.Macallan's sleeping-room. A third door, on the opposite side(marked C on the plan), communicated with a little study, orbook-room, used, as I was told, by Mr. Macallan's mother when shewas staying at Gleninch, but seldom or never entered by any oneelse. Mr. Macallan's mother was not at Gleninch while I wasthere. The door between the bedroom and this study was locked,and the key was taken out. I don't know who had the key, orwhether there were more keys than one in existence. The door wasnever opened to my knowledge. I only got into the study, to lookat it along with the housekeeper, by entering through a seconddoor that opened on to the corridor.

"I beg to say that I can speak from my own knowledge positivelyabout Mrs. Macallan's illness, and about the sudden change whichended in her death. By the doctor's advice I made notes at thetime of dates and hours, and such like. I looked at my notesbefore coming here.

"From the 7th of October, when I was first called in to nurseher, to the 20th of the same month, she slowly but steadilyimproved in health. Her knee was still painful, no doubt; but theinflammatory look of it was disappearing. As to the othersymptoms, except weakness from lying in bed, and irritability oftemper, there was really nothing the matter with her. She sleptbadly, I ought perhaps to add. But we remedied this by means ofcomposing draughts prescribed for that purpose by the doctor.

"On the morning of the 21st, at a few minutes past six, I got myfirst alarm that something was going wrong with Mrs. Macallan.

"I was awoke at the time I have mentioned by the ringing of thehand-bell which she kept on her bed-table. Let me say for myselfthat I had only fallen asleep on the sofa in the bedroom at pasttwo in the morning from sheer fatigue. Mrs. Macallan was thenawake. She was in one of her bad humors with me. I had tried toprevail on her to let me remove her dressing-case from herbed-table, after she had used it in making her toilet for thenight. It took up a great deal of room; and she could notpossibly want it again before the morning. But no; she insistedon my letting it be. There was a glass inside the case; and,plain as she was, she never wearied of looking at herself in thatglass. I saw that she was in a bad state of temper, so I gave herher way, and let the dressing-case be. Finding that she was toosullen to speak to me after that, and too obstinate to take hercomposing draught from me when I offered it, I laid me down onthe sofa at her bed foot, and fell asleep, as I have said.

"The moment her bell rang I was up and at the bedside, ready tomake myself useful.

"I asked what was the matter with her. She complained offaintness and depression, and said she felt sick. I inquired ifshe had taken anything in the way of physic or food while I hadbeen asleep. She answered that her husband had come in about anhour since, and, finding her still sleepless, had himselfadministered the composing draught. Mr. Macallan (sleeping in thenext room) joined us while she was speaking. He too had beenaroused by the bell. He heard what Mrs. Macallan said to me aboutthe composing draught, and made no remark upon it. It seemed tome that he was alarmed at his wife's faintness. I suggested thatshe should take a little wine, or brandy and water. She answeredthat she could swallow nothing so strong as wine or brandy,having a burning pain in her stomach already. I put my hand onher stomach--quite lightly. She screamed when I touched her.

"This symptom alarmed us. We went to the village for the medicalman who had attended Mrs. Macallan during her illness: one Mr.Gale.

"The doctor seemed no better able to account for the change forthe worse in his patient than we were. Hearing her complain ofthirst, he gave her some milk. Not long after taking it she wassick. The sickness appeared to relieve her. She soon grew drowsyand slumbered. Mr. Gale left us, with strict injunctions to sendfor him instantly if she was taken ill again.

"Nothing of the sort happened; no change took place for the nextthree hours or more. She roused up toward half-past nine andinquired about her husband. I informed her that he had returnedto his own room, and asked if I should send for him. She said'No.' I asked next if she would like anything to eat or drink.She said 'No' again, in rather a vacant, stupefied way, and thentold me to go downstairs and get my breakfast. On my way down Imet the housekeeper. She invited me to breakfast with her in herroom, instead of in the servants' hall as usual. I remained withthe housekeeper but a short time--certainly not more than half anhour.

"Coming upstairs again, I met the under-housemaid sweeping on oneof the landings.

"The girl informed me that Mrs. Macallan had taken a cup of teaduring my absence in the housekeeper's room. Mr. Macallan's valethad ordered the tea for his mistress by his master's directions.The under-housemaid made it, and took it upstairs herself to Mrs.Macallan's room. Her master, she said, opened the door when sheknocked, and took the tea-cup from her with his own hand. Heopened the door widely enough for her to see into the bedroom,and to notice that nobody was with Mrs. Macallan but himself.

"After a little talk with the under-housemaid, I returned to thebedroom. No one was there. Mrs. Macallan was lying perfectlyquiet, with her face turned away from me on the pillow.Approaching the bedside, I kicked against something on the floor.It was a broken tea-cup. I said to Mrs. Macallan, 'How comes thetea-cup to be broken, ma'am?' She answered, without turningtoward me, in an odd, muffled kind of voice, 'I dropped it.''Before you drank your tea, ma'am?' I asked. 'No,' she said; 'inhanding the cup back to Mr. Macallan, after I had done.' I hadput my question, wishing to know, in case she had spilled the teawhen she dropped the cup, whether it would be necessary to gether any more. I am quite sure I remember correctly my questionand her answer. I inquired next if she had been long alone. Shesaid, shortly, 'Yes; I have been trying to sleep.' I said, 'Doyou feel pretty comfortable?' She answered, 'Yes,' again. Allthis time she still kept her face sulkily turned from me towardthe wall. Stooping over her to arrange the bedclothes, I lookedtoward her table. The writing materials which were always kept onit were disturbed, and there was wet ink on one of the pens. Isaid, 'Surely you haven't been writing, ma'am?' 'Why not?' shesaid; 'I couldn't sleep.' 'Another poem?' I asked. She laughed toherself--a bitter, short laugh. 'Yes,' she said, 'another poem.''That's good,' I said; 'it looks as if you were getting quitelike yourself again. We shan't want the doctor any more to-day.'She made no answer to this, except an impatient sign with herhand. I didn't understand the sign. Upon that she spoke again,and crossly enough, too--'I want to be alone; leave me.'

"I had no choice but to do as I was told. To the best of myobservation, there was nothing the matter with her, and nothingfor the nurse to do. I put the bell-rope within reach of herhand, and I went downstairs again.

"Half an hour more, as well as I can guess it, passed. I keptwithin hearing of the bell; but it never rang. I was not quite atmy ease--without exactly knowing why. That odd, muffled voice inwhich she had spoken to me hung on my mind, as it were. I was notquite satisfied about leaving her alone for too long a timetogether--and then, again, I was unwilling to risk throwing herinto one of her fits of passion by going back before she rang forme. It ended in my venturing into the room on the ground-floorcalled the Morning-Room, to consult Mr. Macallan. He was usuallyto be found there in the forenoon of the day.

"On this occasion, however, when I looked into the Morning-Roomit was empty.

"At the same moment I heard the master's voice on the terraceoutside. I went out, and found him speaking to one Mr. Dexter, anold friend of his, and (like Mrs. Beauly) a guest staying in thehouse. Mr. Dexter was sitting at the window of his room upstairs(he was a cripple, and could only move himself about in a chairon wheels), and Mr. Macallan was speaking to him from the terracebelow.

"'Dexter!' I heard Mr. Macallan say. 'Where is Mrs. Beauly? Haveyou seen anything of her?'

"Mr. Dexter answered, in his quick, off-hand way of speaking,'Not I. I know nothing about her.'

"Then I advanced, and, begging pardon for intruding, I mentionedto Mr. Macallan the difficulty I was in about going back or notto his wife's room without waiting until she rang for me. Beforehe could advise me in the matter, the footman made his appearanceand informed me that Mrs. Macallan's bell was then ringing--andringing violently.

"It was then close on eleven o'clock. As fast as I could mountthe stairs I hastened back to the bedroom.

"Before I opened the door I heard Mrs. Macallan groaning. She wasin dreadful pain; feeling a burning heat in the stomach and inthe throat, together with the same sickness which had troubledher in the early morning. Though no doctor, I could see in herface that this second attack was of a far more serious naturethan the first. After ringing the bell for a messenger to send toMr. Macallan, I ran to the door to see if any of the servantshappened to be within call.

"The only person I saw in the corridor was Mrs. Beauly. She wason her way from her own room, she said, to inquire after Mrs.Macallan's health. I said to her, 'Mrs. Macallan is seriously illagain, ma'am. Would you please tell Mr. Macallan, and send forthe doctor?' She ran downstairs at once to do as I told her.

"I had not been long back at the bedside when Mr. Macallan andMrs. Beauly both came in together. Mrs. Macallan cast a strangelook on them (a look I cannot at all describe), and bade themleave her. Mrs. Beauly, looking very much frightened, withdrewimmediately. Mr. Macallan advanced a step or two nearer to thebed. His wife looked at him again in the same strange way, andcried out--half as if she was threatening him, half as if she wasentreating him--'Leave me with the nurse. Go!' He only waited tosay to me in a whisper, 'The doctor is sent for,' and then heleft the room.

"Before Mr. Gale arrived Mrs. Macallan was violently sick. Whatcame from her was muddy and frothy, and faintly streaked withblood. When Mr. Gale saw it he looked very serious. I heard himsay to himself, 'What does this mean?' He did his best to relieveMrs. Macallan, but with no good result that I could see. After atime she seemed to suffer less. Then more sickness came on. Thenthere was another intermission. Whether she was suffering or not,I observed that her hands and feet (whenever I touched them)remained equally cold. Also, the doctor's report of her pulse wasalways the same--'very small and feeble.' I said to Mr. Gale,'What is to be done, sir?' And Mr. Gale said to me, 'I won't takethe responsibility on myself any longer; I must have a physicianfrom Edinburgh.'

"The fastest horse in the stables at Gleninch was put into adog-cart, and the coachman drove away full speed to Edinburgh tofetch the famous Doctor Jerome.

"While we were waiting for the physician, Mr. Macallan came intohis wife's room with Mr. Gale. Exhausted as she was, sheinstantly lifted her hand and signed to him to leave her. Hetried by soothing words to persuade her to let him stay. No! Shestill insisted on sending him out of her room. He seemed to feelit--at such a time, and in the presence of the doctor. Before shewas aware of him, he suddenly stepped up to the bedside andkissed her on the forehead. She shrank from him with a scream.Mr. Gale interfered, and led him out of the room.

"In the afternoon Doctor Jerome arrived.

"The great physician came just in time to see her seized withanother attack of sickness. He watched her attentively, withoutspeaking a word. In the interval when the sickness stopped, hestill studied her, as it were, in perfect silence. I thought hewould never have done examining her. When he was at lastsatisfied, he told me to leave him alone with Mr. Gale. 'We willring,' he said, 'when we want you here again.'

"It was a long time before they rang for me. The coachman wassent for before I was summoned back to the bedroom. He wasdispatched to Edinburgh for the second time, with a writtenmessage from Dr. Jerome to his head servant, saying that therewas no chance of his returning to the city and to his patientsfor some hours to come. Some of us thought this looked badly forMrs. Macallan. Others said it might mean that the doctor hadhopes of saving her, but expected to be a long time in doing it.

"At last I was sent for. On my presenting myself in the bedroom,Doctor Jerome went out to speak to Mr. Macallan, leaving Mr. Galealong with me. From that time as long as the poor lady lived Iwas never left alone with her. One of the two doctors was alwaysin her room. Refreshments were prepared for them; but still theytook it in turns to eat their meal, one relieving the other atthe bedside. If they had administered remedies to their patient,I should not have been surprised by this proceeding. But theywere at the end of their remedies; their only business the seemedto be to keep watch. I was puzzled to account for this. Keepingwatch was the nurse's business. I thought the conduct of thedoctors very strange.

" By the time that the lamp was lighted in the sick-room I couldsee that the end was near. Excepting an occasional feeling ofcramp in her legs, she seemed to suffer less. But her eyes lookedsunk in her head; her skin was cold and clammy; her lips hadturned to a bluish paleness. Nothing roused her now--exceptingthe last attempt made by her husband to see her. He came in withDoctor Jerome, looking like a man terror-struck. She was pastspeaking; but the moment she saw him she feebly made signs andsounds which showed that she was just as resolved as ever not tolet him come near her. He was so overwhelmed that Mr. Gale wasobliged to help him out of the room. No other person was allowedto see the patient. Mr. Dexter and Mrs. Beauly made theirinquiries outside the door, and were not invited in. As theevening drew on the doctors sat on either side of the bed,silently watching her, silently waiting for her death.

"Toward eight o'clock she seemed to have lost the use of herhands and arms: they lay helpless outside the bed-clothes. Alittle later she sank into a sort of dull sleep. Little by littlethe sound of her heavy breathing grew fainter. At twenty minutespast nine Doctor Jerome told me to bring the lamp to the bedside.He looked at her, and put his hand on her heart. Then he said tome, 'You can go downstairs, nurse: it is all over.' He turned toMr. Gale. 'Will you inquire if Mr. Macallan can see us?' he said.I opened the door for Mr. Gale, and followed him out. DoctorJerome called me back for a moment, and told me to give him thekey of the door. I did so, of course; but I thought this alsovery strange. When I got down to the servants' hall I found therewas a general feeling that something was wrong. We were alluneasy--without knowing why.

"A little later the two doctors left the house. Mr. Macallan hadbeen quite incapable of receiving them and hearing what they hadto say. In this difficulty they had spoken privately with Mr.Dexter, as Mr. Macallan's old friend, and the only gentleman thenstaying at Gleninch.

"Before bed-time I went upstairs to prepare the remains of thedeceased lady for the coffin. The room in which she lay waslocked, the door leading into Mr. Macallan's room being secured,as well as the door leading into the corridor. The keys had beentaken away by Mr. Gale. Two of the men-servants were postedoutside the bedroom to keep watch. They were to be relieved atfour in the morning--that was all they could tell me.

"In the absence of any explanations or directions, I took theliberty of knocking at the door of Mr. Dexter's room. From hislips I first heard the startling news. Both the doctors hadrefused to give the usual certificate of death! There was to be amedical examination of the body the next morning."

There the examination of the nurse, Christina Ormsay, came to anend.

Ignorant as I was of the law, I could see what impression theevidence (so far) was intended to produce on the minds of thejury. After first showing that my husband had had twoopportunities of administering the poison--once in the medicineand once in the tea--the counsel for the Crown led the jury toinfer that the prisoner had taken those opportunities to ridhimself of an ugly and jealous wife, whose detestable temper hecould no longer endure.

Having directed his examination to the attainment of this object,the Lord Advocate had done with the witness. The Dean ofFaculty--acting in the prisoner's interests--then rose to bringout the favorable side of the wife's character by cross-examiningthe nurse. If he succeeded in this attempt, the jury mightreconsider their conclusion that the wife was a person who hadexasperated her husband beyond endurance. In that case, where (sofar) was the husband's motive for poisoning her? and where wasthe presumption of the prisoner's guilt?

Pressed by this skillful lawyer, the nurse was obliged to exhibitmy husband's first wife under an entirely new aspect. Here is thesubstance of what the Dean of Faculty extracted from ChristinaOrmsay:

"I persist in declaring that Mrs. Macallan had a most violenttemper. But she was certainly in the habit of making amends forthe offense that she gave by her violence. When she was quietagain she always made her excuses to me, and she made them with agood grace. Her manners were engaging at such times as these. Shespoke and acted like a well-bred lady. Then, again, as to herpersonal appearance. Plain as she was in face, she had a goodfigure; her hands and feet, I was told, had been modeled by asculptor. She had a very pleasant voice, and she was reportedwhen in health to sing beautifully. She was also (if her maid'saccount was to be trusted) a pattern in the matter of dressingfor the other ladies in the neighborhood. Then, as to Mrs.Beauly, though she was certainly jealous of the beautiful youngwidow, she had shown at the same time that she was capable ofcontrolling that feeling. It was through Mrs. Macallan that Mrs.Beauly was in the house. Mrs. Beauly had wished to postpone hervisit on account of the state of Mrs. Macallan's health. It wasMrs. Macallan herself--not her husband--who decided that Mrs.Beauly should not be disappointed, and should pay her visit toGleninch then and there. Further, Mrs. Macallan (in spite of hertemper) was popular with her friends and popular with herservants. There was hardly a dry eye in the house when it wasknown she was dying. And, further still, in those little domesticdisagreements at which the nurse had been present, Mr. Macallanhad never lost his temper, and had never used harsh language: heseemed to be more sorry than angry when the quarrels tookplace."--Moral for the jury: Was this the sort of woman who wouldexasperate a man into poisoning her? And was this the sort of manwho would be capable of poisoning his wife?

Having produced this salutary counter-impression, the Dean ofFaculty sat down; and the medical witnesses were called next.

Here the evidence was simply irresistible.

Dr. Jerome and Mr. Gale positively swore that the symptoms of theillness were the symptoms of poisoning by arsenic. The surgeonwho had performed the post-mortem examination followed. Hepositively swore that the appearance of the internal organsproved Doctor Jerome and Mr. Gale to be right in declaring thattheir patient had died poisoned. Lastly, to complete thisoverwhelming testimony, two analytical chemists actually producedin Court the arsenic which they had found in the body, in aquantity admittedly sufficient to have killed two persons insteadof one. In the face of such evidence as this, cross-examinationwas a mere form. The first Question raised by the Trial--Did theWoman Die Poisoned?--was answered in the affirmative, andanswered beyond the possibility of doubt.

The next witnesses called were witnesses concerned with thequestion that now followed--the obscure and terrible question,Who Poisoned Her?