tion, and how far it
might be a daring ruse for the purpose of saving her brother. The
obvious dilemma in which the missing doctor stood was that if by any
extraordinary chance he was not dead, then he must be held responsible
for the death of this unknown man, who resembled him so exactly, and
who was found in his study. This letter which Miss Morton refused to
produce was possibly a confession of guilt, and she might find herself
in the terrible position of only being able to save her brother from
the gallows by the sacrifice of her former lover. The court next
morning was crammed to overflowing, and a murmur of excitement passed
over it when Mr. Humphrey was observed to enter in a state of emotion,
which even his trained nerves could not conceal, and to confer with the
opposing counsel. A few hurried words--words which left a look of
amazement upon Mr. Porlock Carr's face--passed between them, and then
the counsel for the defence, addressing the Judge, announced that, with
the consent of the prosecution, the young lady who had given evidence
upon the sitting before would not be recalled.

The Judge: But you appear, Mr. Humphrey, to have left matters in a very
unsatisfactory state.

Mr. Humphrey: Perhaps, my lord, my next witness may help to clear them
up.

The Judge: Then call your next witness.

Mr. Humphrey: I call Dr. Aloysius Lana.

The learned counsel has made many telling remarks in his day, but he
has certainly never produced such a sensation with so short a sentence.
The court was simply stunned with amazement as the very man whose fate
had been the subject of so much contention appeared bodily before them
in the witness-box. Those among the spectators who had known him at
Bishop's Crossing saw him now, gaunt and thin, with deep lines of care
upon his face. But in spite of his melancholy bearing and despondent
expression, there were few who could say that they had ever seen a man
of more distinguished presence. Bowing to the judge, he asked if he
might be allowed to make a statement, and having been duly informed
that whatever he said might be used against him, he bowed once more,
and proceeded:

"My wish," said he, "is to hold nothing back, but to tell with perfect
frankness all that occurred upon the night of the 21st of June. Had I
known that the innocent had suffered, and that so much trouble had been
brought upon those whom I love best in the world, I should have come
forward long ag