The Holladay Case | Page 4

were everywhere in evidence, and in one
corner there was a man with a camera stationed, determined, I suppose,
to get a photograph of our client, should she be called to the stand,
since none could be obtained in any other way.

I saw Singleton, the district attorney, come in and sit down near the
coroner, and then the jury filed in from their room and took their seats.
I examined them, man by man, with some little anxiety, but they all
seemed intelligent and fairly well-to-do. Mr. Royce was looking over
their names, and he checked them off carefully as the clerk called the
roll. Then he handed the list up to the coroner with a little nod.
"Go ahead," he said. "They're all right, I guess--they look all right."
"It's a good jury," replied the coroner, as he took the paper. "Better than
usual. Are you ready, Mr. Singleton?"
"Yes," said the district attorney. "Oh, wait a minute," he added, and he
got up and came down to our table. "You're going to put Miss Holladay
on the stand, I suppose----"
"And expose her to all this?" and our junior looked around the room.
"Not if I can help it!"
"I don't see how you can help it. An alibi's the only thing that can save
her from being bound over."
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," retorted Mr. Royce. "I
think the case against her will soon die of inanition."
"Oh, very well," and Singleton abruptly went back to his desk, biting
his mustache thoughtfully. He had made something of a reputation,
since his election a year before, as a solver of abstruse criminal
problems, and had secured a conviction in two or three capital cases
which had threatened for a time to baffle the police. He evidently
scented something of the same kind here, or he would have entrusted
the case to one of his assistants. It might be added that, while his
successes had made him immensely popular with the multitude, there
had been, about one or two of them, a hint of unprofessional conduct,
which had made his brethren of the bar look rather askance at him.
He nodded to the coroner after a moment, the room was called to order,
and the first witness summoned.

It was Rogers, the confidential clerk. I knew Rogers, of course, had
talked with him often in a business way, and had the highest respect for
him. He had been with Mr. Holladay much longer than I had been with
Graham & Royce, and had, as Mr. Graham had pointed out, an
unimpeachable reputation.
There were the usual preliminaries, name, age, residence, and so on,
Coroner Goldberg asking the questions. He was a really good
cross-examiner, and soon came to the core of the matter.
"What is the position of your desk in Mr. Holladay's office?" he asked.
"There is an outer office for the clerks; opening from that, a smaller
room where my desk is placed. Opening from my room was Mr.
Holladay's private office.
"Had Mr. Holladay's office any other door?"
"No, sir."
"Could entrance be had by the windows?"
"The windows open on the street side of the building. We occupy a part
of the eighth floor."
"The fire-escapes----"
"Are at the back of the building--there are none on the street
side--nothing but a sheer wall."
"So that anyone entering or leaving the private office must necessarily
pass by your desk?"
"Necessarily; yes, sir."
"Could anyone pass without your seeing him?"
"No, sir; that would be quite impossible."

The coroner leaned back in his chair. There was one point settled.
"Now, Mr. Rogers," he said, "will you kindly tell us, in your own way
and with as much detail as possible, exactly what happened at your
office shortly before five o'clock yesterday afternoon?"
I could see that Rogers was deeply moved. His face was very white, he
moistened his lips nervously from time to time, and his hands grasped
convulsively the arms of his chair. Plainly, the task before him was far
from an agreeable one.
"Well, sir," he began, "we had a very busy day yesterday, and were at
the office considerably later than usual; but by five o'clock we had
closed up work for the day, and all the other clerks, with the exception
of the office-boy, had gone home. I had made some notes from Mr.
Holladay's dictation, and had returned to my desk to arrange them,
when the outer door opened and Mr. Holladay's daughter came in. She
asked me whether her father was engaged, and upon my saying no,
opened the inner door and entered his office. She remained, I should
think, about ten minutes; then she came out again, walked rapidly past
without looking at me, and, I suppose,