looked the point I am going to bring out. Their position and mine was different. With them the confession had been voluntary and practically stood for guilt—with me, I knew in my soul that the prisoner was innocent. But he would not talk to me, gentlemen. I knew that, clever as he was, clever as was the story he had manufactured to save another, there was almost certain to be a little flaw somewhere that had escaped him. His life, gentlemen, was in my hands—I had to find that flaw. I thank God that I have been able to do it. Gentlemen, this bar was not bent in prying open the cupboard door; it was bent before it ever went near it—or, in other words, before the door could be pried open with this bar, as it was beyond question, the bar must have been bent. See here, gentlemen; see how simple is the proof of that statement."
Randall stepped to the table, picked up the parcel that had been the subject of so much curiosity and speculation, removed the wrapping and exhibited a drawing, some five feet long by three feet wide.
"I have here," he said, "a sketch, drawn to scale, of the cupboard and the end wall itself between the fire-place and the side wall of the room; and here"—he picked up a little pointer that had been enclosed with the package—"I have a piece of stick that is the exact length of the fender bar, if the fender bar were straightened out. See then, what we have. Here is the lock of the cupboard where the end of the bar was inserted. It is just one foot and six inches from the side wall. The bar is four feet long. We stick the thin end of the straight bar in by the lock to pry the door open. See, like this"—he set the drawing on end on the floor, and,
