n
an expression of doubt stole over her features; and Marcus, who observed
her at that moment, knew that the vision of the night was still before
her, and that she could not hold him guiltless though a dozen juries had
released him. This thought touched Marcus with sadness, which all the
congratulations of his friends could not disperse.

A faint cry was heard. Old Mr. Van Quintem had fallen from his chair,
and would have dropped upon the floor, but for the strong arm of the boy
Bog. He was in the act of rising from his seat for the purpose of
offering his hand to Marcus, when the vertigo, from which he was an
occasional sufferer, seized him.

"Poor old gentleman!" said Marcus, forgetful of all else, and rushing to
the side of his venerable friend. Directing that the windows be opened,
Marcus, aided by the boy Bog, bore the senseless form to the fresh, cool
air. The grateful breeze, and a cup of cold water applied to his brow,
soon restored the wretched father to a beginning of consciousness.

As he lay there, more dead than alive, in the arms of his two friends,
the ingrate son, having lighted a cigar, looked coldly over the
shoulders of the bystanders at the senseless figure of his father, and
said, in the sweetest voice:

"Poor old fellow! He has only himself to blame for kicking up all this
row. I told him it would be too much for his nerves; but he would insist
on dragging me up here. I forgive him from the bottom of my heart."

The bystanders looked on in amazement at this speech.

The son continued: "I'm glad to see that he is in good hands. Upon my
word, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to help a little; but
I fear that, when the old man came out of it, and saw me over him, he
would go off again. So I guess I had better leave."

And young Van Quintem sauntered cheerfully out of the room, in company
with his four friends from Brown's. The coroner had been waiting at the
foot of the stairs for them; and the party adjourned to the nearest
drinking saloon, when the coroner, overjoyed at having got rid of a
tedious and embarrassing case, stood treat for one round.

But who killed the inventor?

The papers and the police, after groping for weeks in search of the
answer, turned it over to the solution of Time, with the comforting
assurance that MURDER WILL OUT.

BOOK TENTH.

DONE ON BOTH SIDES.

CHAPTER I.

A FISHER OF MEN.

Mr. Augustus Whedell was a gentleman who had been living h