, I recolleck yer very well. Ahem! What do you know about
this 'ere case, Mr. Jelliman?"

"Nothing, sir, except that I can swear to having seen the prisoner, on
the night of the murder, at the corner of West and ---- streets. He was
smoking a cigar, and walking fast. As he passed me, he said, 'A cold
night, Mr. Policeman.' This made me notice him particularly, because it
isn't very often that people throw away civilities on us. Just as he
turned the corner below me, the alarm bells struck the last round for
the Seventh District. They had struck three or four rounds. That is all
I know about the affair."

"I have no other questions to ask, Mr. Jelliman," said the coroner, with
great politeness.

The coroner was baffled. He had staked the whole case upon the theory of
Marcus Wilkeson's guilt, and had made no attempt to procure other
testimony than what would prove that supposition. He scratched his head
and rolled his quid in a perfect quandary.

Another noise was heard on the stairs, as of several persons hurriedly
ascending.

Then the door opened, and an excited group made its appearance. In
advance was a slender young man, whose face was pale with debauchery.
His clothes were rich, and had an unpleasantly new look. As he stepped
over the threshold, he glanced coolly about the room, and, his eyes
resting on the coroner, smiled.

"Ah, Myndert, my boy," said the coroner, "what are you here for?"

CHAPTER IX.

AN OLD MAN'S OFFERING.

"Hang me if I know, Harry! It's the old man's work. He'll explain it to
you."

Behind this easy young man came a strong policeman, who, immediately
upon his entrance, received a nod of approbation from the lieutenant.
Behind the policeman walked, with bended white head and tottering limbs,
the venerable Mr. Van Quintem. The old gentleman was partly supported,
in his infirmity, by the boy Bog. It was a touching sight to see the
confiding trust with which the weakness of sixty-eight clung to the
strong arm of nineteen. Bog hung down his head modestly, and blushed. He
was not seen even to look at the little veiled figure which sat in the
middle of the room. But young Myndert Van Quintem looked at it, and
bowed with the deepest respect. The bow was answered by a faint nod and
a delicate blush. Mrs. Crull observed the interchange of recognitions,
and frowned to herself.

"Mr. Coroner," said the old gentleman, straightening himself, and coming
forward with a quick step, as one who