hand on the woman, forced her back into her seat, reproving and calming her at the same time, with a dexterity marvellous to behold. "I beg your pardons," she cried deprecatingly to those around; "but it niver was Hannah, niver!"
The clerk from Bohn’s here being dismissed, those assembled took the opportunity of making some change in their position, after which, the name of Mr. Harwell was again called. That person rose with manifest reluctance. Evidently the preceding testimony had either upset some theory of his, or indubitably strengthened some unwelcome suspicion.
"Mr. Harwell," the coroner began, "we are told of the existence of a pistol belonging to Mr. Leavenworth, and upon searching, we discover it in his room. Did you know of his possessing such an instrument?"
"I did."
"Was it a fact generally known in the house?"
"So it would seem."
"How was that? Was he in the habit of leaving it around where any one could see it?"
"I cannot say; I can only acquaint you with the manner in which I myself became aware of its existence."
"Very well, do so."
"We were once talking about firearms. I have some taste that way, and have always been anxious to possess a pocket-pistol. Saying something of the kind to him one day, he rose from his seat and, fetching me this, showed it to me."
"How long ago was this?"
"Some few months since."
"He has owned this pistol, then, for some time?"
"Yes, sir."
