ar what he said."

"Did you hear what Dr. Heath said?"

"I did."

"You heard it distinctly?"

"Quite."

"Ah!" smiling triumphantly. "Then you _can_ give us his words?"

"Not _verbatim_."

"Give us his meaning, then."

"His meaning, as nearly as I could understand it, was this: He would
allow no man to insult him or to meddle with his affairs, and he
finished with something like this: 'Keep my name off your lips, wherever
you are, if you want whole bones in your skin.'"

"He said that?"

"Well, something like that; I may have put it too strong."

"Do you remember what Dr. Heath said by way of comment on the affair?"

"One of the men picked the fellow by the sleeve, and said, 'Come out of
that, Burrill!' and then Heath turned to me and asked, 'Who the deuce is
Burrill?'"

"And your reply?"

"I said--" stopping a moment and turning his eyes upon the two
Lamottes--"I said, 'He is Jasper Lamotte's son-in-law.'"

"And then, sir?"

"Then Dr. Heath made about the same sort of comment others have made
before him--something to the effect that Mr. Lamotte had made a very
remarkable choice."

"Mr. Vandyck," says the coroner severely, "it seems to me that your
memory is singularly lucid on some points, and deficient on others of
more importance."

"That's a fact, sir," with cheerful humility. "I'm always that way."

"Ah!" with an excess of dignity. "Mr. Vandyck, I won't tax your memory
further."

Ray turns away, looking as if, having done his duty, he might even
survive the coroner's frown, and as he moves again to the side of the
suspected man, some one in the audience above, a portly gentleman, with
a diamond shining on his immaculate breast, makes this mental comment:
"There is a witness who has withheld more than he has told." And he
registers the name of Raymond Vandyck upon his memory.

This is the last witness.

While the jurymen stand aside to deliberate, there is a buzz and murmur
among the people up above, and profound quiet below. Attention is
divided between the gentlemen of the jury and Clifford Heath. The former
are very much agitated. They look troubled, uneasy and uncomfortable.
They gesticulate rapidly and with a variety of movements that would be
ludicrous were the occasion less solemn, the issue less than a man's
life and honor.

Finally the verdict is reached, and is pronounced:

The coroner's jury "find, after due deliberation, that John Burrill came
to his death by two dagger,