The black eyes of the ubiquitous Brown were upon the two men as they
stood talking, but he was too far away to hear what was transpiring
between them.

"What can they have against you any how?" inquired Sommers. "Surely
there must be some ground of suspicion upon which to base their
charge."

"Ah, you do not know. After the old man was murdered; I was arrested;
I was closely questioned, and I did say some things that I should not
have said. I had no lawyer, and a white-haired fox whose name was
Illing did every thing he could against me. I did not have an
opportunity to explain myself at all."

"That was too bad, indeed," added Sommers; "but it can all be shown
right upon the trial, and then you will come out safely."

"Oh, yes, it will come out all right on the trial, I know, for then I
will have my lawyers to defend me."

"But, tell me, William, how did this murder occur?"

Thus questioned, Bucholz, without hesitation, at once commenced and
related to his friend the circumstances of the affair, adhering
strictly to the same story which he had told at the inquest, and
which he had religiously repeated ever since.

While they were thus conversing, the jailer came to lock them in
their cells for the night. Brown slipped quietly away, and the two
men, thus so strangely thrown together, shook hands and retired to
their separate apartments, where they spent the night in slumber. But
ah, how pleasant or how fatiguing was that slumber!

CHAPTER XX.

_Bucholz passes a Sleepless Night._--_An Important Discovery._--_The
Finding of the Watch of the Murdered Man._--_Edward Sommers consoles
the Distressed Prisoner._

Our narrative must necessarily deal somewhat largely with the
interior arrangements and experiences of a prison. Not a very
gratifying spectacle certainly, nor one ordinarily calculated to give
occasion for many incidents of a pleasurable character, or for those
glossed with the tints of romance or gallantry.

How many untouched pillows there are as the sable folds of night
gather around the dreary walls of the prison. How many aching hearts
and weary brains are waiting and watching for the dawning of the
day--the coming of the bright rays of the morning, which shall dispel
the gloom and despair of their narrow chamber, and gild with golden
beauty the darkened corners where, in the solemn hours of the night,
lurk the grim specters that were born of their remorse or their
fears.

Bucholz pas