“Did you tell Mr. Burnham of seeing this old man and child after the accident?”

“I did; yes, sir.”

“Did you not say to him positively, at that time, that they were the same persons who were sitting together across the aisle from him before the crash came?”

“It may be that I did.”

“And did you not assure him that the child who went to the city, on the train that night after the accident was not his son?”

“I may have done so.  I felt quite positive of it at that time.”

“Has your opinion in that matter changed since then?”

“Not as to the facts; no, sir; but I feel that I may have taken too much for granted at that time, and have given Mr. Burnham a wrong impression.”

“At which time, sir, would you be better able to form an opinion,—­one week after this accident occurred, or ten years afterward?”

“My opinion is formed on the facts; and I assure you that they were not weighted with such light consequences for me that I have easily forgotten them.  If there were any tendency to do so, I have here a constant reminder,” holding up his empty sleeve as he spoke.  “My judgment is better, to-day, than it was ten years ago.  I have learned more; and, looking carefully over the facts in this case in the light I now have, I believe it possible that this son of Robert Burnham’s may have been saved.”

“That will do,” said Goodlaw.  The witness left the stand, and the judge, looking up at the clock on the wall, and then consulting his watch, said:—­

“Gentlemen, it is nearly time to adjourn court.  Mr. Sharpman, can you close your case before adjourning time?”

“That will be impossible, your Honor.”

“Then, crier, you may adjourn the court until to-morrow morning at nine o’clock.”

The crier made due proclamation, the spectators began to crowd out of the room, the judge left the bench, and the lawyers gathered up their papers.  Ralph, on his way out, again passed by Mrs. Burnham, and she had for him a smile and a kind word.  Bachelor Billy stood waiting at the door, and the boy went down with him to their humble lodgings in the suburbs, his mind filled with conflicting thoughts, and his heart with conflicting emotions.

CHAPTER XI.

THE EVIDENCE IN THE CASE.

When court opened on Saturday morning, all the persons interested in the Burnham suit were present, and the court-room was crowded to even a greater extent than it had been on the previous day.  Sharpman began the proceedings by offering in evidence the files of the Register’s court, showing the date of Robert Burnham’s death, the issuing of letters of administration to his widow, and the inventory and appraisement of his personal estate.

Then he called Simon Craft to the witness-stand.  There was a stir of excitement in the room; every one was curious to see this witness and to hear his evidence.