of a man deliberately done and with a purpose, there are a hundred that have no conception, no purpose, and hardly consciousness.

Truly I saw a hard time ahead for poor Winters, who, without friends, money, or character, would have little chance against the machinery of the law; and with the warm impulse of youth I was inclined to become my old friend's champion while yet knowing almost nothing of the facts. I had condemned the police for premature judgment of the case and now, influenced by sympathy, I was near doing the same myself, unconscious of the inconsistency of my mental attitude. I would be more deliberate to-day; time has taught me the wisdom of going slow, but I hope it has yet to teach me indifference to the troubles of others.

I had walked some distance thus absorbed in thought when I was suddenly recalled to my surroundings by finding myself on Nineteenth Street opposite White's house—following unconsciously the bent of my thoughts, I had taken that route home. I was about to hurry on, having no desire to linger on the scene, when my attention was attracted to a man leaning dejectedly against the railing of the steps. On a closer look I recognized Winters and with a pang of regret saw that he wore a light coat and derby hat such as described by the night-officer.

After some hesitation, I crossed over and spoke to him. He stared at me for a moment in a half-dazed way, and then recognized me indifferently. He looked wretched; his clothes were soiled and threadbare, his face haggard, and his eyes bloodshot with drink and lack of sleep; he seemed a being utterly hopeless and lost to manhood. Before I could collect myself to speak to him, he had relapsed again into his stupor and had apparently forgotten my presence.

Anxious, nevertheless, to learn something from him of himself, and to help him if possible, I asked him if he knew his cousin was dead. He nodded an assent without looking at me. I then told him that he had been murdered, to which he only answered:

"So they say."

"Have you been in to see him?" I continued.

He said, "No," and then added bitterly: "Why should I wish to see him? Have I not troubles enough of my own?"

I abandoned my efforts to talk with him, for it was evidently useless, and as there seemed nothing I could do for him, continued on my way.

As I reached the corner of Fifth Avenue, I recognized a detective standing idly by the curb. Already the shadow of trouble was over the wretched man. I could not help him now, however, it must be later, if at all, and I passed on.

CHAPTER V

THE INQUEST

The next day at the time appointed, three o'clock, I attended, as representative of the State, the Coroner's hearing. Since my interview with the Inspector, reported in the last chapter, I had seen no one likely to throw any light upon the case. I had also avoided any personal investigation as I did not wish to form conclusions, preferring to give an unprejudiced hearing to the evidence as it was offered from the lips of the witnesses on the stand.

When I entered upon the scene, the usual pomp and circumstance of such proceeding were present. Behind his desk sat the Coroner, serious and dignified, as became the presiding officer of the occasion.

Ranged to his right were the jurors as I had seen them at the house, no more intelligent in appearance now than then, but perhaps with even greater solemnity in their bearing and expression, as was demanded of them in this hour of public importance.

I crossed over to the table on the Coroner's left, reserved for the State officers, and took a seat there with the Inspector, Detective Miles, and several policemen.

A mass of people filled the farther end of the room; most of them spectators drawn to the scene by the morbid curiosity that always attends on such occasions. Conspicuous among them I recognized Littell, Davis, Benton, and others whom I knew to be present as witnesses. Van Bult was not there, however.

Davis looked pale, nervous, and miserable. Poor fellow, evidently this sort of thing did not agree with him. Benton was also nervous and excited, I could see. Littell looked somewhat bored and tired, but gave me a nod and came over to me, making his way into the forbidden precinct without interruption, as can only be done by men such as he, who by quick and mendacious assumption are in the habit of getting what is not by right theirs.

As he leaned over my chair, he whispered: "This is a miserable affair, Dick!" I was not inclined for conversation, however, as I wished to give my entire attention to the proceedings, so I only motioned him to a chair nearby.

Without unnecessary delay, the Coroner briefly stated the occasion of the hearing, and then gave the results of his observation and post-mortem. He did it with no more verbosity and display of unintelligible technical terminology than the ordinary medical expert indulges himself in on such occasions.

The jury and audience were able to glean from his testimony with reasonable certainty, nevertheless, that White had died from a stab—I believe he said "an incised wound"—made by a dagger or dirk or some similar slim, sharp instrument driven with great force into the back, just beneath the left shoulder blade, slightly downward in direction and penetrating the heart,—such a blow as might have been given by a man standing over him while he lay on his right side.

There was no other cause of death, for White was organically as sound as the average man. In reply to a few suggestions rather than questions from the Inspector, he added that, when he had first seen White about eight o'clock the preceding morning, he had probably been dead some hours, he could not say definitely; that he died suddenly, probably without much outcry or struggle; that he had not killed himself, because the wound could not have been self-inflicted. This much was reasonably clear from his testimony, and as he was not afforded by cross-examination an opportunity to explain or contradict himself, the jury was left with some information on the subject.

Dr. Lincoln, who succeeded him, told of his early call about seven o'clock by Benton; of his finding White dead, as described, on the divan, and his subsequent assistance at the post-mortem.

In a very few words he corroborated the Coroner's testimony in all important particulars and left no doubt in any one's mind that White had been murdered some time early in the night and with the stiletto, which was produced and identified by both him and the Coroner as the weapon they found in the wound.

The sheath was also produced and fitted to the weapon and its location over the divan described.

Benton was the next witness. He was laboring under considerable excitement, but gave his evidence clearly. He testified to leaving White the night of his death about quarter to one o'clock. That White had been drinking, and was in an ill humor, but not drunk. That he had thrown himself upon the divan almost immediately after we had left, and at the same time had ordered the witness to go home, which order he had obeyed without delaying to arrange anything. In the morning he had returned at his customary hour, a little before seven o'clock, and had entered the room, the door of which, contrary to custom, he had found unlocked. That the room appeared just as he had left it and to his surprise he had seen White still upon the divan, apparently asleep. That he went over to arouse him and discovered he was dead and saw the dagger hilt protruding from his back. That he had rushed out into the hall and called for help, then into the street, leaving the door open behind him, to find a policeman. That he succeeded in doing so within the block, and returned with him to the house. When they got there they found the landlady and the housemaid standing in the hall looking into the room, but they had not apparently been in. That by direction of the officer he next went to the police