"Yes," said Mr. Goldberry, gravely, "he used those words, and in this case they are justified by events. God has punished the murderers without the assistance of a lawyer." "Why do you recall the name of Antony Cowlrick?" inquired our Reporter. "Because I am here to represent him. He has not only paid me for my past services--forcing the money upon me--but he has thanked me for them, which, in the bitterness of his heart, he declined to do, although he was not asked, when he was finally discharged." "I had a suspicion," remarked our Reporter, "at that time that he was a gentleman; he spoke like one, and had the manner of one. It was chiefly for that reason I took an interest in him." "No, no," said Mr. Goldberry, jocosely; "you wanted copy. Every man to his trade." "I could retort with good effect," said our Reporter, good-humouredly, "but I spare you. Will Antony Cowlrick be here this morning?" "Yes, and others whom you know." At this moment a lady and a gentleman entered the room in which the inquest was held, and advancing to Mr. Goldberry shook hands with him. The gentleman was Antony Cowlrick, who, after a few words with his lawyer, turned, and offered his hand to our Reporter. "I must apologise," he said, "for not having kept the half-appointment I made with you on the day you so generously lent me the sovereign in Leicester Square, but I had my reasons, which you will understand when I tell you as much of my story as I think it proper for you to know." "I attend here," said our Reporter, "on behalf of my paper, in response to a letter sent to our editor by Mr. Frederick Holdfast." "I am Frederick Holdfast," said the gentleman. "Antony Cowlrick was an assumed name; I could not use my own when I was falsely accused of the murder of my father." He turned aside with quivering lips, and our Reporter, holding his grief in respect, did not intrude upon it. The face of the lady who accompanied Frederick Holdfast appeared singularly familiar to our Reporter, and his curiosity was presently appeased by Mr. Goldberry, who informed him that she was the lady who, by the happiest of chances, met Mr. Frederick Holdfast in Leicester Square after his discharge. "Were she willing to allow herself to be used in such a way," observed the lawyer, "her photograph to-morrow could be sold in thousands all over England. But she does not belong to that class of woman. She is a heroine, in the truest sense of the word. Mrs. Holdfast, who supplied you with a Romance in Real Life fit for a novel instead of the columns of a newspaper, would not, in such circumstances as these, have withstood the temptation. But there are women and women."