" Tiffles's face beamed with a strange
kindness. He looked up, and saw the idiot standing near him. His small
eyes filled with tears as he gazed with an expression of intelligent
pity at the crushed man. Tiffles could have hugged the idiot, not only
as the most sensible man, but the best-hearted one he had seen in
the village.

C. Skimmerhorn, Esq., would have retorted severely, but his attention,
and that of all the crowd, was drawn, at that moment, to a citizen who
came forward, and, in a state of beathless excitement, said he guessed
he knew what it all meant. He was in New York that afternoon, and read,
in one of the evening papers, an account of a dreadful murder committed
on an old man named Minford. The supposed murderer, the paper said, was
a Mr. Wilkes or Wilkson.

"Now I hope you are satisfied," said Detective Leffingwell, looking
around with contempt at his hearers.

A slight scream was heard from the corner of a seat near by. From the
beginning of this unpleasant affair, it was observed that a plainly
dressed woman--a seamstress accompanying the family of a Mr. Graft--had
become very pale and nervous, and had been seen to move uneasily in her
seat. This woman had fainted away. She it was who had stared so
strangely at Marcus in the car that morning.

Mrs. Graft and her two daughters promptly removed the fainting woman to
the entry, where the fresh air soon restored her, and she was sent home.

"No wonder the women faint away, when you crowd round here so stupidly,"
said the officer, momentarily losing his temper. "Please step back, now,
and let Mr. Wilkeson and me get out. We must leave for New York by the
next train--and that starts in fifteen minutes." The detective referred
to his watch. "Are you ready, sir?" tapping Marcus gently on
the shoulder.

Marcus rose, and displayed a face haggard with grief.

They all whispered, or thought, "He is guilty."

"I am ready," said he; "but I call heaven to witness that I know nothing
of this crime."

The detective bowed courteously, and then said:

"I also have summons for Mr. Tiffles and Mr. Patching, gentlemen
connected with this panorama, as witnesses. They will please
step forward."

"I am Mr. Tiffles," said that person. "Wesley is my panoramic name."

This disclosure caused a small sensation. "I knew the man was a humbug
from the start," whispered C. Skimmerhorn, Esq., to a friend at his
elbow. "I'd like to prosecute him for swindling."

"And I