he looks, just for one moment; but it's too wet,
and I must go tell the old woman how her favorite doctor faces the
situation."

A few moments after the landau had deposited Jasper Lamotte at the gate
of the vacant lot, a pedestrian, striding swiftly along, as if eager to
be upon the scene and sate his curiosity, came in among the group of men
that, all day long, had hovered about the cellar.

"What's a going on here?" he demanded of the first man upon whom his
glance fell, "an--accident?"

"Good Lord!" exclaimed the man, who was one of Old Forty Rod's
customers; "where have _you_ come from that you don't know a man has
been killed!"

"Killed!"

"Yes, murdered! stabbed last night and buried in this old cellar."

"Heavens, man! was--was he a citizen?"

"Well, I should say! and a rum chap, too. Why, you are a stranger to
these parts if you don't know John Burrill."

"Never heard of him in my life, old Top," replied the stranger. "I
_don't_ live in these parts."

The man drew back a little, and seeing this, the stranger came closer
and laid one hand familiarly upon his arm, at the same time leaning
nearer, and saying in a loud whisper:

"Any of the stiff's friends in this gang?"

[Illustration: "Any of the stiff's friends in this gang?"]

The satellite of "Old Forty," who had at first seemed somewhat disposed
to resent too much familiarity on the part of the stranger, turned
toward him, drew closer, and allowed his features to relax into a grin
of friendliness. He had not been so fortunate as to receive a morning
dram, and the breath of the stranger had wafted to his nostrils the
beloved, delicious odor of "whisky killers."

"Hush!" he whispered confidentially, "that man over there the tall,
good-looking one with the whiskers, d'ye mind--"

"Yes, yes! high toned bloke?"

"Exactly; that's the dead man's father-in-law."

"Father-in-law, eh!"

"Yes, and that young chap beside him, the pale, handsome one, that's his
son."

"Whose son?"

"The tall man's son; Frank Lamotte's his name."

"You don't say; good-looking duffer! Found the assassin?"

"Not exactly, but they say--"

"Look here, pard, this sniffs of romance; now I'm gone on romance in
real life; just let's step back among these cedars, and out of the
crowd, where I can give you a pull at my brandy flask, and you can tell
me all the particulars."

And the jaunty young man tapped his breast suggestively and winked
knowingly down at his new