at Brown’s, to while away an hour; and betting was now and then done, in a strictly honorable and legitimate way.  Several of the jurymen would have improved the occasion, to learn all about the internal management of Brown’s; but the coroner decided that such questions were entirely “relevant” (meaning irrelevant), and suggested that, as there were no more witnesses, the case might as well go to the jury.  The coroner had just consulted his watch, and found that it was four o’clock.  He was aware, from the turn things had taken, that he had lost the verdict which he hoped to obtain; but that was no reason why he should lose his dinner.  The coroner was not a man of energy; and, being foiled in his efforts to convict Marcus Wilkeson, he had no disposition to pursue the matter further.  Besides, he had already achieved a large measure of profitable notoriety from the case; for he had been ridiculed and abused in most of the city papers; and that insured him, beyond all doubt, the nomination for and election to the State Senate, for which he was an aspirant at the next fall campaign.  Under all these circumstances, the coroner was satisfied.

The jurors, receiving but a shilling a day, and being hungry and tired, were quite willing to wind up the case.  After putting their heads together, whispering and nodding about five minutes, the foreman declared the following as their verdict: 

“That the deceased, Eliphalet Minford, came to his death, on the night of the ——­ day of April, 185-, from a wound inflicted on the head by a club in the hands of some person unknown to the jurors.”

Overtop and Maltboy took the verdict as a matter of course, having anticipated it for some time.  Marcus Wilkeson, who had been in a gloomy stupor for the past hour, and had expected the worst, looked up in surprise at this lucky dispensation of Fate.  Tears sprang to his eyes, and he extended a hand to each of his faithful friends, by whom he was warmly congratulated on the happy issue of the affair.  The jurors also came forward with their congratulations.  Even the coroner said, “Well, Mr. Wilkeson, I did my pootiest to hold you, because I thought you was the murderer; but the jury doesn’t indorse my ’pinion, and I gives in.”  Mrs. Crull, who had been watching Marcus narrowly, and was firmly impressed with the conviction of his innocence, came forward with a warm hand, and tried to think of a proverb suitable to the occasion, but could not.  Patty Minford removed the veil from her face, and looked at her benefactor.  She made a motion as if to rise and go toward him.  Then an expression of doubt stole over her features; and Marcus, who observed her at that moment, knew that the vision of the night was still before her, and that she could not hold him guiltless though a dozen juries had released him.  This thought touched Marcus with sadness, which all the congratulations of his friends could not disperse.

A faint cry was heard.  Old Mr. Van Quintem had fallen from his chair, and would have dropped upon the floor, but for the strong arm of the boy Bog.  He was in the act of rising from his seat for the purpose of offering his hand to Marcus, when the vertigo, from which he was an occasional sufferer, seized him.