he excitement was intense. To see suspicion thus suddenly, and, I must say, deftly, shifted from the man hitherto regarded guilty to one whom nobody had seemed inclined to doubt, was to experience an emotion of no ordinary nature. I was so affected by it that I quite forgot myself, and stared first at the vest thus recognised by its owner, then at the witness, who was calmly awaiting an opportunity to speak, with deep bewilderment only cut short by the coroner's abrupt words:
"Where did you find this vest I now hold up before you?"
"In the closet of the dressing-room adjoining the apartment where Mr. George Gillespie is said to sleep."
"Does this dressing-room communicate with the hall or with any other room than the said Mr. Gillespie's sleeping apartment?"
"No."
"Is it a large room or a small one; a mere closet or a place big enough for a man to turn about in with ease and do such a thing, say, as change his vest without being seen too plainly by persons in the adjoining room?"
"It is a six-by-ten room, sir. If anyone chose to do what you suggest in the especial corner where the wardrobe stands, he certainly would run little chance of being seen by anyone sitting near the fireplace of the sleeping apartment."
"Why do you speak of the fireplace?"
"Because the evidences are strong that this was where Mr. Gillespie's three friends were sitting when he came up from below, with the half-empty bottle of sherry in his hands."