ny one in the court-room,
though Kitty Tynan had so placed herself that he must see her if he
looked at the audience at all. Kitty thought him magnificent as he told
his story with a simple parsimony but a careful choice of words which
made every syllable poignant with effect. She liked him in his grave
mood even better than when he was aflame with an internal fire of his
own creation, when he was almost wildly vivid with life.

"He's two men," she had often said to herself; and she said it now
as she looked at him in the witness-box, measuring out his words and
measuring off at the same time the span of a murderer's life; for
when the crown attorney said to the judge that he had concluded his
examination there was no one in the room--not even the graceless
Burlingame--who did not think the prisoner guilty.

"That is all," the crown attorney said to Crozier as he sank into his
chair, greatly pleased with one of the best witnesses who had ever been
through his hands--lucid, concentrated, exact, knowing just where he
was going and reaching his goal without meandering. Crozier was about to
step down when Burlingame rose.

"I wish to ask a few questions," he said.

Crozier bowed and turned, again grasping the rail of the witness-box
with one hand, while with an air of cogitation and suspense he stroked
his chin with the long fingers of the other hand.

"What is your name?" asked Burlingame in a tone a little louder than
he had used hitherto in the trial, indeed even louder than lawyers
generally use when they want to bully a witness. In this case it was as
though he wished to summon the attention of the court.

For a second Crozier's fingers caught his chin almost spasmodically. The
real meaning of the question, what lay behind it, flashed to his mind.
He saw in lightning illumination the course Burlingame meant to pursue.
For a moment his heart seemed to stand still, and he turned slightly
pale, but the blue of his eyes took on a new steely look--a look also
of striking watchfulness, as of an animal conscious of its danger, yet
conscious too of its power when at bay.

"What is your name?" Burlingame asked again in a somewhat louder tone,
and turned to look at the jury, as if bidding them note the hesitation
of the witness; though, indeed, the waiting was so slight that none but
a trickster like Burlingame would have taken advantage of it, and only
then when there was much behind.

For a moment longer Crozier remai