liberty of forgers than of murderers. Had Tulitz committed
forgery, his bail bond would scarcely have been less than $10,000.
Since, beyond all question, it was only $5000, I think I must be right
in the idea that he stabbed a man.

It was in default of that sum, $5000, that Tulitz, commonly called the
Baron Tulitz, alias d'Ercevenne, commonly called the Marquis
d'Ercevenne, was committed to the Tombs Prison to await the action of
the Grand Jury. At this time Tulitz--I call him Tulitz without intending
any partiality for that name over the alias of d'Ercevenne, but merely
because Tulitz is a shorter word to write. I doubt if he had any
preference between them himself, except in the way of business. He was
just as likely, other things being equal, to present his card bearing
the words "M. le Marquis d'Ercevenne," as his other card with the words
upon it "Freiherr von Tulitz." It has been remarked frequently that when
he was the Baron his tone and manner were exceedingly French, while when
he was the Marquis he spoke with a distinct German accent. None of his
acquaintances was able to account for this.

But as I was saying, when Tulitz was sent to the Tombs he was in hard
luck. Formerly he had whipped the social trout-stream with great
success. As the Marquis he had composed some pretty odes, had led the
German at Mrs. de Folly's assembly, had driven to Hempstead with the
Coaching Club, and had been seen in Mrs. Castor's box at the opera. As
the Baron Tulitz, he had attended the races, and had been a frequenter
of all the great gaming resorts. The newspapers called him a "plunger,"
and a story went the rounds, in which he was represented to have wrecked
a pool-seller, who thereupon committed suicide. The Baron always denied
this story, which the Marquis often repeated. Indeed the Marquis was
often quoted to the Baron as an authority for it.

But the tide had turned, and now Tulitz was on his back with never a
friend to help him. "Fi' t'ousan' tollaire!" he exclaimed, as the
Justice fixed his bail, blending both his French and his German accent
with strict impartiality, "V'y you not make him den, dwenty, a huntret
t'ousandt!"

A penniless prisoner in the Tombs is not an object of much
consideration, as Tulitz discovered to his profound disgust. For two
days he paced his cell with the restless, incessant tread of a caged
hyena. He disdainfully rejected the beef soup, the hunk of bread and the
black coffee served to him