ed by Burrill?"

"O'Meara, let us understand each other; your question means this: Do I
intend, now that this crisis has come, to make public, for the benefit
of W----, the facts concerning my life previous to my coming here as a
resident? My answer must be this, and again I must give you reason to
think me ungracious, ungrateful. There is nothing in my past that could
help me in this present emergency; there is no one who could come
forward to my assistance. I have not in all America one friend who is so
well known to me, or who knows me as well as Vandyck here, or yourself.
I can not drag to light any of the events of my past life; on the
contrary, I must redouble my efforts to keep that past a mystery."

Utter silence in the cell. The lawyer's pencil travels on--scratch,
scratch, scratch. Ray sits moody and troubled of aspect. Doctor Heath
looks with some curiosity upon the movements of the little lawyer, and
inwardly wonders at his coolness. He has expected expostulation,
indignation; has even fancied that his obstinate refusal to lend his
friends any assistance may alienate them from his case, leaving him to
face his fate alone. He sees how Vandyck is chafing, but he is puzzled
by the little lawyer's phlegmatic acceptance of the situation.

Presently, the lawyer looks up, snaps his note book together with a
quick movement, and then stows it away carefully in his breast pocket.

"Umph!" he begins, raising the five fingers of his right hand and
checking off his items with the pencil which he has transferred to the
left. "Umph! Then your case stands like this, my friend: A man is found
dead near your premises; a handkerchief bearing your name covers his
face; a knife supposed to belong to you is with the body. You are known
to have differed with this man; you have knocked him down; you have
threatened him in the public streets. You are a stranger to W----. This
murdered man claimed to know something to your disadvantage. He is known
to have set out for your house; he is found soon after, as I have said,
dead. You acknowledge the knife and handkerchief to be yours; you can
offer no _alibi_, you can rebut none of the testimony. You refuse to
tell aught concerning your past life. That's a fine case, now; don't you
think so?"

"It's a worthless case for you, O'Meara. You had better leave me to
fight my own battles."

"Umph! I'm going to leave you for the present; but this battle may turn
out to be not entirely your