“And when made aware of the death of his betrothed,” pursued my lawyer, “how did Mr. Neuman conduct himself?” “He acted like a crazy man—like one paralyzed by a tremendous blow.” “You can go, Mr. Tikulski,” said my lawyer. “But I wish to say,” began Tikulski, “that I do not believe——” “Stop,” cried the prosecutor. “Your honor, I object to any expression of opinion by the witness.” “No matter about what you don’t believe,” said the Judge to Tikulski. “But——-” “But you must hold your tongue,” imperiously. “You can go.” The old man left the stand and elbowed his way to my side. “What I wished to say was,” he whispered into my ear, “that I believe you are as innocent as I myself. It is outrageous, this trial. They compelled me to testify. But you must understand that I am sure of your innocence. I don’t know why they hushed me up.” Meanwhile the captain of police had succeeded him, and sworn to having visited the scene of the crime and to having placed the prisoner under arrest. “Captain,” said the district-attorney, “here is a key. Have you seen it before?” handing a key to the witness. “I have,” was the reply. “Tell us when and where.” “I took it from the prisoner on the morning of his arrest.” “What further can you say about it?” “Subsequently it was identified as a key to the apartments occupied by the deceased.” “Did you try it yourself?” “I did. It fitted the lock.” “How is this?” Epstein asked me. “How did you come by that key?” “I’m sure I don’t know,” I answered. “I don’t remember ever having had it in my possession.” “But it is an ugly circumstance, and must be accounted for.” “Oh, what difference does it make?” I retorted petulantly. “Leave me alone.” “A few little trifles like this may make the difference of your neck,” muttered Epstein, and he looked disturbed. “Captain,” continued the district-attorney, “just one thing more. Do you recognize this handkerchief?” “Yes; it was found in the pocket of the prisoner when he was searched at the station-house.” My lawyer got hold of the handkerchief and exhibited it to me. It was stained dull brown. “This is blood,” he said. “How did it happen?” “I don’t know, I haven’t an idea,” was the utmost I could respond. Epstein looked more uneasy than before. “That’s enough, Captain,” said the prosecutor. “But before you leave the stand,” put in Epstein, “kindly tell us what the prisoner’s conduct was from the time you took charge of the premises down to the time you locked him up.” “At first he acted as though he was crazy; raved and carried on like a madman. Afterward he became quiet and sort of dull. At the station-house he fainted away.” “Didn’t act as though he liked it—as though the death of Miss Pathzuol was a thing that pleased him?” “No, sir; on the contrary. He acted as though it had been a great shock to him.” “You can go.” Next came a physician.