In the ante-room, Miss Philomela saw Overtop and Maltboy, upon whom she bestowed a half smile, and Tiffles, whom she treated to a cordial grimace, not unmingled with a blush.  Tiffles, on his part, was profoundly polite, and inquired if she were going home.  Learning that she was, he remarked that he had occasion to walk in the same direction, and accompanied her as she left the station house.  Mash followed at a short distance behind, not because she did not think herself fully as good as Miss Philomela, but because she wished to indulge unchecked in the mild luxury of tears.

A new visitor was now announced.  He was a curly-headed, neatly dressed boy of nineteen years.  His face was one that is handsomer in promise than in fact.  Marcus recognized him as the boy Bog, whom he had not seen for several weeks.  The boy had developed a remarkable talent for making money honestly.  For two months he had attended a night school, and was fast correcting his awkward English, and attaining to other knowledge.  Prosperity and schooling together had given him quite a polish.  The rough boy was coming to be a presentable youth.

He advanced timidly toward Marcus, who shook hands with him.  He sat down before the fire, and commenced fumbling his cap in the old way.  “With the exception of that trick, and his shyness, there was little of the original boy Bog about him,

“Mr. Wilkeson,” said he, giving his cap a twirl, “I am very sorry to see you here; because, I may say, I know you are innocent.”

The positive manner in which the boy asserted this, charmed Marcus, “I thank you, my dear Bog,” said he; “but how do you know it?  For, though I am innocent, I may have some trouble in proving it.”

The boy drew a small folded note from his pocket.  “I’ll explain, sir,” said he.

Marcus here called in his counsel, Messrs. Overtop and Maltboy, and his good friend the lieutenant of police, who had just arrived in the outer room, in order that they might hear the explanation.

The boy was embarrassed by his audience; but the anxious look of Marcus, and a few kind words from the lieutenant of police, reassured him.  Bog then proceeded to tell what he knew of the strange young man’s acquaintance with Miss Patty Minford—­which was very easily told, since it did not amount to much—­and concluded by opening the letter given to him by the young man for delivery to Miss Minford, and handed it to Marcus.

Marcus glanced at the writing, expecting that it would resemble that of the first anonymous letter addressed to Mr. Minford, which he drew from his pocket for comparison.  But the writing was totally different in inclination, thickness of the downward stroke, and all other respects.  He read it aloud, his counsel and the lieutenant of police listening attentively.