“Yes, sir; at the head of his bed.”
An officer was sent to examine the stand drawer. In a few moments he returned, bringing a small pistol which he laid down on the coroner’s table, saying, “Here it is.”
Immediately, every one sprang to his feet, but the coroner, handing it over to the clerk from Bonn’s, inquired if that was the make before mentioned. Without hesitation he replied, “Yes, Smith & Wesson; you can see for yourself,” and he proceeded to examine it.
“Where did you find this pistol?” asked the coroner of the officer.
“In the top drawer of a shaving table standing near the head of Mr. Leavenworth’s bed. It was lying in a velvet case together with a box of cartridges, one of which I bring as a sample,” and he laid it down beside the bullet.
“Was the drawer locked?”
“Yes, sir; but the key was not taken out.”
Interest had now reached its climax. A universal cry swept through the room, “Is it loaded?”
The coroner, frowning on the assembly, with a look of great dignity, remarked:
“I was about to ask that question myself, but first I must request order.”