n the early morning,
leaving a dead man behind him. Who was this man? Where did he come from?
Had he been missing since last night? On these inquiries the
Superintendent launched several intelligent men, and then was forced for
the time to turn his attention to the business of the day.

To search a large town for a missing man takes time, and the searchers
did not happen to fall in with Company B of Procession 3, which at one
o'clock had mustered in Digby Square, prepared to march to the Public
Park. Had they done so, it might or might not have seemed to them worth
noticing that Company B of Procession 3, which was composed of
carpenters and joiners, had missed some one, namely the officer whom
they called their "Marshal," and who was to have ordered their ranks and
marched at their head; and the name of their Marshal was none other than
Francois Gaspard. The Superintendent himself was keeping watch over
Company B, but, in a professionally Olympian scorn of processions, he
was far from asking or caring to know who the Marshal was, and indeed,
if he had known, he would scarcely have drawn such a lightning-quick
inference as that the missing Marshal and the missing murderer were one
and the same. So Mr. Gaspard's absence was passed over with a few curses
on his laziness, or, from the more charitable, a surmise that there had
been a misunderstanding, and Company B, having appointed a new Marshal,
went on its way.

One demonstration of the public will is much like another in the shape
it takes and the incidents it produces. This Sunday's was, however, as
friends and foes agreed, remarkable not only for the numbers who took
part, but still more for the spirit which animated it, and when the
Premier and his colleagues made their appearance on the great platform
there was no room to doubt that somehow, by his gifts or his faults, his
policy or his demagogic arts, his love of humanity or his adroit wooing
of popularity, Medland held a position in the eyes of the common people
of the capital which had seldom or never been equalled in the history of
the Colony. He had caused them to be called together in order to raise
their enthusiasm, and to elicit from them a visible, unmistakable pledge
of support. But, when he stood before them, bareheaded, in vain
beckoning for silence, their cries and cheers told him that his task was
rather to moderate than to stir up, and the first part of his speech was
a somewhat laboured proof of the