The answer came with much emotion.
"The bow! The bow which sped the arrow which killed Miss Willetts. I do not want to see it. It hurts me—hurts me physically. Let me go, I entreat."
"Mr. Travis," urged the Coroner as they again emerged upon the open gallery, "you have said that there was no one with you in the section where you stood. If that was so, how came this bow to be where you have just seen it?"
A bewildered look, a slow shake of the head and nothing more.
"Did you know it was there? Did you see it thrown there?"
"No, I saw nothing. I am an honest man. You may believe me."
The Coroner scrutinized him closely but not unkindly.
"We shall know before night who handled that bow, Mr. Travis. It carries its own clue with it."
A gleam of unmistakable joy lighted up the Englishman's features.
"I am glad," he cried. "I am glad."