Patsy went on through the train and when he came back the woman was
still rocking and staring blankly at the floor, as he had found her
before. She had to look at him for some time before she could remember
him.

"Can't you go no faster?"

Patsy sighed.

"What time is it?"

"Six o'clock."

"Will we git there by half after nine?--th' trial's at ten."

"Yes."

Patsy sat down and looked at the wreck.

"Now, a man who could put such a woman off, in such a storm, at such an
hour, and with a grief like that," said Patsy to himself, "would pasture
a goat on his grandmother's grave."

* * * * *

When Patsy woke at two o'clock that afternoon, he picked up a noon
edition of an all-day paper, and the very first word he read was "Not
guilty." That was the heading of the police news.

"There was a pathetic scene in Judge Meyer's court this morning at the
preliminary hearing of the case of Terrence Cassidy, charged with the
murder of the old farmer at Spring Bank on Monday last. All efforts to
draw a confession from Cassidy had failed, and the detectives had come
to the conclusion that he was either very innocent or very guilty--there
was no purgatory for Terrence; it was heaven or the hot place, according
to the detectives. For once the detectives were right. Terrence was very
innocent. It appears that the tramp who was killed on the Wabash last
night made a confession to the trainmen, after being hit by the engine,
to the effect that he had murdered the old farmer, and afterwards, at
the point of an empty pistol, forced a young Irishman, whom he met upon
the railroad track, to exchange clothes with him. That accounts for the
blood stains upon Cassidy's coat, but, of course, nobody credited his
story.

"The tramp's confession, however, was wired to the general manager of
the Wabash by the conductor of the out-going train, together with a
description of the tramp's clothes, which description tallies with that
given of those garments worn by Cassidy.

"This good news did not reach the court, however, until after the
prisoner had been arraigned. When asked the usual question, 'Guilty, or
not guilty?' the boy stood up and was about to address some remarks to
the court, when suddenly there rushed into the room about the sorriest
looking woman who ever stood before a judge. She was poorly clad, wet as
a rat, haggard and pale. Her voice was hoarse and unearthly. Nobody
seemed to see her ente