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The old gentleman, as he entered the room, had caught Marcus Wilkeson's words. "He is the son " and had observed the slight confusion with which Marcus had stopped saying something. He now noticed the glance enjoining silence, which Marcus had directed at the lieutenant of police. Mr. Van Quintem turned pale, as a harrowing suspicion came into his mind. "Mr.
Marcus Wilkeson's first thought was of the unfathomed murder. His startled face expressed what was passing through his mind. The strange woman read his thoughts. "The crime to which I refer is not the murder of Mr. Minford; of which, I may here say, I believed, from the first, that you were entirely innocent. Crimes of that character, at least have never been known in your family."
Wilkeson's eccentricity insanity, one broker called it in retiring from business at the very moment when he was most successful, and had a great fortune within easy reach. The fact that he had retired with one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, instead of mitigating his offence in the eyes of those critics, increased it.
"Why," said a noted bear, "with that amount of capital, and Wilkeson's first-rate talents when he chose to use them he might have become the king of Wall street. It's a pity so smart a fellow should make a wreck of himself." And the bear heaved a sigh of commiseration; which was by no means echoed by Mr. Minford, who gathered, from all this evidence, an increased esteem for his benefactor.
As for 'nonymous letters, whether it's right or wrong to send them, people will differ. The coroner and the jury is competent to judge for themselves. Go ahead, Myndert." "As the first letter seemed to have no effect, I sent another, suggesting that Mr. Minford should inquire into Mr. Wilkeson's history in the little village of , Westchester County, where he was born, and lived many years.
He had staked the whole case upon the theory of Marcus Wilkeson's guilt, and had made no attempt to procure other testimony than what would prove that supposition. He scratched his head and rolled his quid in a perfect quandary. Another noise was heard on the stairs, as of several persons hurriedly ascending. Then the door opened, and an excited group made its appearance.
Slapman, still laughing at the window, and walked smartly home. Mr. Quigg, deriving much comfort from the thought that Captain Tonkins had not been paid for his sleigh, and would not be, hastened to a neighboring stable, hired the only remaining team, and continued his round of calls, giving one minute to each. Marcus Wilkeson's new acquaintance throve rapidly. Mr.
Marcus Wilkeson's heretical opinion concerning legs was part of a system of independent views which he entertained of life generally. He had given up a profitable broker's shop in Wall street, a year before, because he had made a fortune ten times larger than he would ever spend.
As for Tiffles and Patching, having shared the same couch several nights during the incubation of the panorama, the problem of how to distribute three men among two beds gave them no concern. Pigworth then retired. Marcus Wilkeson's first act was to open the windows, and mix some fresh air with the damp and mouldy atmosphere of the apartment.
The coroner was disappointed again, for he hoped that the witness would, on second thought, fix the commencement of the actual assault on the prisoner. "Your father, being old and kind o' feeble, struck a light blow, I s'pose." WITNESS. "No, sir a heavy one, I should judge; for it appeared to cut open Mr. Wilkeson's lip, and bruise his cheek. The blood seemed to run down his face in a stream."
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