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."
An immediate calm followed. Every one was too much interested to interpose any obstacle in the way of gratifying his curiosity.
"Now, sir!" exclaimed the coroner.
The clerk from Bonn’s, taking out the cylinder, held it up. "There are seven chambers here, and they are all loaded."
A murmur of disappointment followed this assertion.
"But," he quietly added after a momentary examination of the face of the cylinder, "they have not all been loaded long. A bullet has been recently shot from one of these chambers."
"How do you know?" cried one of the jury.
"How do I know? Sir," said he, turning to the coroner, "will you be kind enough to examine the condition of this pistol?" and he handed it over to that gentleman. "Look first at the barrel; it is clean and bright, and shows no evidence of a bullet having passed out of it very lately; that is because it has been cleaned. But now, observe the face of the cylinder: what do you see there?"
"I see a faint line of smut near one of the chambers."
"Just so; show it to the gentlemen."
It was immediately handed down.
