“Find him or her, and swing him or her to the nearest tree,” was the verdict of many.  “The law is all well enough, but this dastardly crime demands an object lesson.”

Coroner Jack Busby, who was a dealer in horses, had never had a murder case before, and was uncertain as to the method of procedure.  But with the eyes of the whole community on him he realized his importance, as he ran hither and thither, to arrange for the inquest.  He felt that his own little office was altogether too small for the occasion and so arranged to bring off the affair in the general courtroom.

The place was soon crowded with people, and another crowd gathered outside.  The hour for opening the inquest was at hand and the majority of the witnesses were present.  The coroner, short, fat and bald-headed, looked around anxiously and then turned to the chief of police, who was near at hand.

“I don’t see Miss Langmore.”

“Neither do I,” answered the guardian of the law, with a shrug of his shoulders, as if it was none of his especial business,

“Yes, but—­ahem! you are—­ahem! responsible—­”

“She’ll be here, coroner, don’t worry.”

“You have had her properly guarded?”

“Yes.  I reckon she’s coming now,” and the chief of police nodded towards a side door of the courtroom.

There was a slight commotion, and Margaret entered, escorted by Raymond Case, and followed by one of the women and the policeman who had been on guard at the Langmore mansion.  The crowd arose to gaze at the girl and to pass various comments.

“Mighty pale, ain’t she?”

“Wouldn’t think a girl like that could do such an awful thing!”

“Humph! you can’t tell about these high-toned folks.  They’d do anything.  Didn’t one of them millionaires run over two of my hens with his automobile an’ never stop to settle the damage?  Don’t tell me!”

“Yes, and she detested her step-mother—­the hired girl told Mrs. Brown so, an’ she told me.”

“Well, Coroner Busby will git to the bottom of it putty quick.  He told Lem Hansom he knew what he was doin’.”

“He must know, if he’s as slick at tryin’ folks as he is in a hoss dicker,” returned an old farmer who had made a trade of steeds which had proved unprofitable for him.

Margaret was shown to a chair and sat down, with Raymond beside her.  The young man was plainly nervous, yet he did what he could to comfort his companion.

“Courage, Margaret,” he whispered.  “It is bound to come out right in the end.”

“I can scarcely see a friendly face,” she faltered, taking a shy look around.  “They all think I am—­” She could not finish, but had to bite her lip to keep the tears from flowing.

The coroner mounted the platform and rapped on a desk with his knuckles.

“The—­ahem! courtroom will come to order!” he called out, gazing around on all sides.