counsel he had chosen at haphazard from a list of names that had been
offered him, Mr. Mansell rose. But a second glance assured him he had
made a mistake in supposing this person to be a lawyer, and stepping
back he awaited his approach with mingled curiosity and reserve.

The stranger, who seemed to be perfectly at home in the narrow quarters
in which he found himself, advanced with a frank air.

"My name is Gryce," said he, "and I am a detective. The District
Attorney, who, as you know, has been placed in a very embarrassing
situation by the events of the last two days, has accepted my services
in connection with those of the two men already employed by him, in the
hope that my greater experience may assist him in determining which, of
all the persons who have been accused, or who have accused themselves,
of murdering Mrs. Clemmens, is the actual perpetrator of that deed. Do
you require any further assurance of my being in the confidence of Mr.
Ferris than the fact that I am here, and in full liberty to talk with
you?"

"No," returned the other, after a short but close study of his visitor.

"Very well, then," continued the detective, with a comfortable air of
ease, "I will speak to the point; and the first thing I will say is,
that upon looking at the evidence against you, and hearing what I have
heard from various sources since I came to town, I know you are not the
man who killed Mrs. Clemmens. To be sure, you have declined to explain
certain points, but I think you can explain them, and if you will only
inform me----"

"Pardon me," interrupted Mr. Mansell, gravely; "but you say you are a
detective. Now, I have no information to give a detective."

"Are you sure?" was the imperturbable query.

"Quite," was the quick reply.

"You are then determined upon going to the scaffold, whether or no?"
remarked Mr. Gryce, somewhat grimly.

"Yes, if to escape it I must confide in a detective."

"Then you do wrong," declared the other; "as I will immediately proceed
to show you. Mr. Mansell, you are, of course, aware of the manner of Mr.
Orcutt's death?"

"I know he was struck by a falling limb."

"Do you know what he was doing when this occurred?"

"No."

"He was escorting Miss Dare down to the gate."

The prisoner, whose countenance had brightened at the mention of his
lawyer, turned a deadly white at this.

"And--and was Miss Dare hurt?" he asked.

The detective shook his head.

"Then why do you tell