for I believe he is in this room. I will
ask you all to pass one by one in front of me--here, where there is a
good light--so that I can see your feet."

A buzz of excitement swept the place, and the march began, the guest
looking on with an iron attempt at gravity which was not an unqualified
success. Stillman stooped, shaded his eyes with his hand, and gazed
down intently at each pair of feet as it passed. Fifty men tramped
monotonously by--with no result. Sixty. Seventy. The thing was beginning
to look absurd. The guest remarked, with suave irony,

"Assassins appear to be scarce this evening."

The house saw the humor if it, and refreshed itself with a cordial
laugh. Ten or twelve more candidates tramped by--no, danced by, with
airy and ridiculous capers which convulsed the spectators--then suddenly
Stillman put out his hand and said,

"This is the assassin!"

"Fetlock Jones, by the great Sanhedrim!" roared the crowd; and at once
let fly a pyrotechnic explosion and dazzle and confusion of stirring
remarks inspired by the situation.

At the height of the turmoil the guest stretched out his hand,
commanding peace. The authority of a great name and a great personality
laid its mysterious compulsion upon the house, and it obeyed. Out of the
panting calm which succeeded, the guest spoke, saying, with dignity and
feeling,

"This is serious. It strikes at an innocent life. Innocent beyond
suspicion! Innocent beyond peradventure! Hear me prove it; observe how
simple a fact can brush out of existence this witless lie. Listen. My
friends, that lad was never out of my sight yesterday evening at any
time!"

It made a deep impression. Men turned their eyes upon Stillman with
grave inquiry in them. His face brightened, and he said,

"I knew there was another one!" He stepped briskly to the table and
glanced at the guest's feet, then up at his face, and said: "You were
with him! You were not fifty steps from him when he lit the candle
that by-and-by fired the powder!" (Sensation.) "And what is more, you
furnished the matches yourself!"

Plainly the guest seemed hit; it looked so to the public. He opened his
mouth to speak; the words did not come freely.

"This--er--this is insanity--this--"

Stillman pressed his evident advantage home. He held up a charred match.

"Here is one of them. I found it in the barrel--and there's another one
there."

The guest found his voice at once.

"Yes--and put them there yoursel