Then with an eager, "Now let me show you something," he led the coroner through the dining-room into the side hall, where he paused before the staircase.
"Up ?" queried the coroner, with an obvious shrinking from what he might encounter above.
"No," was the whispered reply.

"What we want is _here_." And, pushing open a small door let into the under part of the stairway (if Ranelagh in his prison cell could have seen and understood this movement!), he disclosed a closet and in that closet a coat or two, and one derby hat.
He took down the latter and, holding it out to the light, pointed to a spot on the under side of its brim.
The coroner staggered as he saw it, and glanced helplessly about him.

He had known this family all their lives and the father had been his dearest friend.

But he could say nothing in face of this evidence.

The spot was a flour-mark, in which could almost be discerned the outline of a woman's thumb.
XIV THE MOTIONLESS FIGURE 'S blood, there is something in this more than natural, if philosophy could find it out.
_Hamlet_.
"The coat is here, too," whispered Sweetwater, after a moment of considerate silence.