“My God, I didn’t do it--as God sees me, I didn’t!” he cried. “Perhaps I might, if he’d given me a chance, but he didn’t; he held a gun on me at first, and then when he laid it on the table I couldn’t----” The sergeant of police shook him silent and gave him his warning. “Least said’s the soonest minded for you, me b’y. Ivery wurrud ye say’ll be used against ye. Come on wid us.” “But I say I didn’t!” quavered the boy. “Ask Mr. Brant, there; he was here, and he knows.” All eyes were turned upon Brant. In the excitement of the moment no one had thought of him as having been a witness to the tragedy. It was known that Harding and young Langford had occupied the card room together, and the earliest comers had supposed, if they thought anything about it, that Brant had merely outrun them in the rush to the scene. Jarvis alone seemed to comprehend the situation, and his pencil flew swiftly in the moment of strained silence following Langford’s appeal. Brant faced the battery of eyes without flinching and stepped forward. “The boy is right,” he said quietly. “I do know--and I am ready to go with you.” It was characteristic of time and place that a low buzz of applause greeted the announcement. “That’s Plucky George, every day in the week!” said one who knew him; and at the mention of the name the buzz went around again. But Sergeant McCafferty was not to be so easily turned aside. “Do I understand that ye surrinder yourself as the murtherer of this man?” he demanded, with a jerk of his thumb toward the limp figure on the floor. In the hush that followed Jarvis’s pencil paused, and the reporter thought it a measure of Brant’s fortitude that he could smile. “I am not required to criminate myself before witnesses,” was the reply. “I neither deny nor affirm; but I am ready to go with you and to answer to the charge at the proper time and place.” He held out his wrists for the handcuffs, but the sergeant ignored the gesture and contented himself with searching his prisoner for weapons. “You come along wid us quietlike, and there won’t be no use for the darbies,” he said. “Officer Connell, ye’ll bring the b’y.” But Brant protested quickly. “What for?” he demanded. “As a matther of discreetion. I know fwhat I’m doing,” retorted the sergeant. “Come on wid you.” “Not a step till you turn the boy loose,” said Brant firmly; “at least, not peaceably. I appeal to the crowd. You have just as good reasons for arresting every person in this room as you have for taking this young man. You may say he is a witness; but in that case I ask who gave you the authority to arrest witnesses?” It was a bold stroke and the argument was altogether specious, but Brant knew he could count upon the moral influence of the onlookers, and in this he was not disappointed. A murmur of encouragement answered the appeal, and when the sergeant hesitated Jarvis put in his word.