ing of the same day an
Irishman met Carl going at a rapid rate, with a gun on his shoulder, as
though in furious pursuit of some one. A warrant for his arrest was
issued, and he was lodged in jail to await his trial. If now the Hebrew
had followed the _lex talionis_, after the manner of his race in
ancient times, it might have fared badly with poor Carl. But as soon as
the broker was satisfied beyond a peradventure that the depositor was
actually dead, he hastened back to New York, joyful as a crow over a
newly-found carcass, to administer upon the estate, leaving the law to
take its own course with regard to the murderer.

Beyond the two facts just mentioned as implicating Carl, nothing was
proved at the trial. Jameson, the lawyer, whom I mentioned at the
beginning of this story, was engaged for the defence. He found Carl
singularly uncommunicative; and though the government failed to make
out a shadow of a case against his client, he was yet puzzled in his
own mind by Carl's silence, and his real or assumed indifference.
Katrine was in court with her child in her arms, watching the
proceedings with the closest attention; though she, as well as Carl,
was unable to understand any but the most familiar and colloquial
English. The case was speedily decided; the few facts presented to the
jury appeared to have no necessary connection, and there was no known
motive for the deed. The jury unanimously acquitted Carl, and with his
wife and boy he left the court-room. The verdict was approved by the
spectators, for no man in the neighborhood was more universally loved
and respected than Carl Proch.

Having paid Jameson his fee for his services, Carl was about to depart,
when the lawyer's curiosity could be restrained no longer, and he
called his client back to the private room of his office.

"Carl," said he, "you look like a good fellow, above anything mean or
wicked; but yet I don't know what to make of you. Now you are entirely
through with this scrape; you are acquitted; and I want to know what is
the meaning of it all. I will keep it secret from all your neighbors.
Did you kill Stolzen, or not?"

"Well, if I did," he answered, "can they do anything with me?"

"No," said Jameson.

"Not if I acknowledge?"

"No, you have been acquitted by a jury; and by our law a man can never
be tried twice for the same offence. You are safe, even if you should
go into court and confess the deed."

"Well, then, I did kill him,--and