V. AN AUDIENCE ANALYZED.
VI. HUMORS OF THE MANY-HEADED.
VII. SCENES NOT IN THE BILLS.
BOOK EIGHTH.
A DRAMATIC INTERLUDE.
I. THE OVERTURE.
II. CURTAIN UP.
III. ACT SECOND.
IV. HOW THE PLAY ENDED.
BOOK NINTH.
THE INQUEST.
I. CORONER AND JURY.
II. STATEMENT OF THE PRISONER.
III. JUSTICE GOES TO DINNER.
IV. LIGHT IN THE PRISON.
V. THE SORROW OF WHITE HAIRS.
VI. WHAT PAPER, TYPES, AND INK CAN DO.
VII. PET AS A WITNESS.
VIII. THE BENEFICENCE OF FIRE BELLS.
IX. AN OLD MAN'S OFFERING.
BOOK TENTH.
DONE ON BOTH SIDES.
I. A FISHER OF MEN.
II. PLAYING WITH THE LINE.
III. PULLING IN.
IV. THE FIRST OF MAY.
V. DEMOLITION OF CERTAIN AIR CASTLES.
VI. MR. WHEDELL'S CREDITORS IN CONVENTION ASSEMBLED.
VII. DEUS EX MACHINA.
BOOK ELEVENTH.
DISCOVERIES.
I. THE OLD HOUSE REVISITED.
II. A POSTHUMOUS SECRET.
III. OVERTOP FINDS A SENSIBLE WOMAN.
IV. INNOCENCE ON A SLIPPERY ROAD.
V. BOG'S OPEN SESAME.
VI. TRACKED.
VII. FOUND AND LOST.
BOOK TWELFTH.
SPECULATIONS--PECUNIARY AND MATRIMONIAL.
I. THE "COSMOPOLITAN WINDOW FASTENER."
II. MIDDLE-AGED CUPID.
III. SLAPMAN _vs_. SLAPMAN.
IV. HOW OVERTOP SEALED A CONTRACT IN A WAY UNKNOWN TO CHITTY.
V. A RETURNED CALIFORNIAN.
VI. REVELATIONS OF A LAUGH.
BOOK THIRTEENTH.
THE STRANGE LADY.
I. A STORY OP THE PAST.
II. POSSIBLE LOVE.
III. UNCLE AND NIECE.
BOOK FOURTEENTH.
HAPPY DAYS.
I. OWNERS OF THE BEAUTIFUL.
II. THE LAST OF A MYSTERY.
III. LOVE CROWNED.
IV. FIVE YEARS.
BOOK FIRST.
NEW YEAR'S DAY
CHAPTER I.
THE BLOCK.
On the east side of the block were four brownstone houses, wide, tall,
and roomy. Seen from the street, they had the appearance of not being
inhabited. In the upper stories, all the curtains or blinds were closely
drawn. In the lower story, the heavy lace that hung in carefully
careless folds on each side of the window, seemed never to have been
disturbed since it left the upholsterer's hands. Whatever life and
motion there might have been in the basement, were sheltered from
observation by conical firs or square-clipped box borders, set out on
strictly geometrical principles in each of the four front yards. The
doors were ponderous and tight fitting, as if they were never meant to
be opened; and the vivid polish of their surfaces showed no trace of
human handling. No marks of feet could be detected on the s
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