But this morning, after calling at Farnham’s and finding that he was getting on comfortably, she sat down to read the newspapers.  Alice was sitting near her, with hands and lap full of some feminine handiwork.  A happy smile played about her lips, for her mother had just repeated to her the surgeon’s prediction that Captain Farnham would be well in a week or two.  “He said the scalp wound was healing ’by the first intention,’ which I thought was a funny phrase.  I thought the maxim was that second thoughts were best.”  Alice had never mentioned Farnham’s name since the first night, but he was rarely out of her mind, and the thought that his life was saved made every hour bright and festal.  “He will be well,” she thought.  “He will have to come here to thank mamma for her care of him.  I shall see him again and he shall not complain of me.  If he should never speak to me again, I shall love him and be good to him always.”  She was yet too young and too innocent to know how impossible was the scheme of life she was proposing to herself, but she was thoroughly happy in it.

Mrs. Belding, as she read, grew perplexed and troubled.  She threw down one newspaper and took up another, but evidently got no more comfort out of that.  At last she sighed and said, “Oh, dear!  Oh, dear!  I shall have to go down there after all.  They have got the wrong man!”

Alice looked up with wondering eyes.

“These accounts all agree that the assassin is a tall, powerful young man, with yellow hair and beard.  The real man was not more than medium height, very dark.  Why, he was black and shiny as a cricket.  I must go and tell them.  I wonder who the lawyer is that does the indicting of people?”

“It must be the prosecuting attorney, Mr. Dalton,” said Alice.  “I heard he was elected this spring.  You know him very well.  You meet him everywhere.”

“That elegant young fellow who leads germans?  Well, if that is not too absurd!  I never should have thought of him, outside of a dress-coat.  I don’t mind a bit going to see him.  Order the carriage, while I get my things on.”

She drove down to the City Hall, and greatly astonished Mr. Dalton by walking into his office and requesting a moment’s private conversation with him.  Dalton was a dapper young man, exceedingly glib and well dressed, making his way in political and official, as he had already made it in social life.  He greeted Mrs. Belding with effusion, and was anxious to know how he might serve her, having first cleared the room of the half-dozen politicians who did their lounging there.

“It is a most delicate matter for a lady to appear in, and I must ask you to keep my name as much in reserve as possible.”

“Of course, you may count upon me,” he answered, wondering where this strange exordium would lead to.

“You have got the wrong man.  I am sure of it.  It was not the blonde one.  He was black as a cricket.  I saw him as plainly as I see you.  You know we live next door to Captain Farnham——­”