Frisco Pet. Whereupon the landlord of the
inn where I put up, informed me that one of the villagers in this
identical little town had been landlady at the place where the affair
occurred."

"The woman who testified no one had been to her place that night
except--" John Steele spoke sharply.

"This fellow? Quite so." Captain Forsythe walked up and down. "Now, I'd
always had a little theory. Could never get out of my mind one sentence
this poor, ignorant fellow uttered at the trial. 'Seems as if I could
remember a man's face, a stranger's, that looked into mine that night,
your Lordship, but I ain't exactly cock-sure!' 'Ain't exactly
cock-sure,'" repeated Captain Forsythe. "That's what caught me. Would a
man, not telling the truth, be not quite 'cock-sure'; or would he
testify to the face as a fact?" The other did not answer. "So the
impression grew on me. Can you understand?"

"Hum! Very interesting, Forsythe; very ingenious; quite plausible!"

"Now you're laughing at me, Steele?"

"On the contrary, my dear fellow, go on."

"The landlady's testimony excluded the face, made it a figment of an
imagination, disordered by drink!" Captain Forsythe waved his hand
airily as he stepped back and forth.

"You went to see this woman?"

"Out of curiosity, and found she was, indeed, the same person. She
seemed quite ill and feeble; I talked with her about an hour that day.
Tried in every way to get her to remember she had possibly let in some
other person that night, but--"

"But?"

"Bless you, she stuck to her story," laughed Captain Forsythe. "Couldn't
move her an iota." One of the listener's arms fell to his side; his hand
closed hard. "Quite bowled over my little theory, don't you know! Of
course I told myself it didn't matter; the man convicted was gone,
drowned. However,--" he broke off. A swish of silk was heard in the
hallway; Forsythe stopped before the door.

"Ah, Miss Jocelyn! Haven't you a word in passing?"

She paused, looked in. Amid neutral shades the girl's slender figure
shone most insistent; her gown, of a color between rose and pink, was
warm-hued rather than bright, like the tints in an ancient embroidery.
Around her neck gleamed a band of old cloth of silver but the warmth of
tone did not cease at the argent edge, but leaped over to kiss the fair
cheeks and soft, smiling lips. "Is this the way you men amuse
yourselves?" she asked with a laugh. "Talking shop, no doubt?"

"Afraid we must plead guil