"Then," said Hickory, "he would also have to foresee that she would accuse herself of murder when he was on trial for it, and that he would thereupon withdraw his defence. Byrd, you are foreseeing too much. My friend Mansell possesses no such power of looking into the future as that." "Your friend Mansell!" repeated Mr. Ferris, with a smile. "If you were on his jury, I suppose your bias in his favor would lead you to acquit him of this crime?" "I should declare him 'Not guilty,' and stick to it, if I had to be locked up for a year." Mr. Ferris sank into an attitude of profound thought. Horace Byrd, impressed by this, looked at him anxiously. "Have your convictions been shaken by Hickory's ingenious theory?" he ventured to inquire at last. Mr. Ferris abstractedly replied: "This is no time for me to state my convictions. It is enough that you comprehend my perplexity." And, relapsing into his former condition, he remained for a moment wrapped in silence, then he said: "Byrd, how comes it that the humpback who excited so much attention on the day of the murder was never found?" Byrd, astonished, surveyed the District Attorney with a doubtful look that gradually changed into one of quiet satisfaction as he realized the significance of this recurrence to old theories and suspicions. His answer, however, was slightly embarrassed in tone, though frank enough to remind one of Hickory's blunt-spoken admissions. "Well," said he, "I suppose the main reason is that I made no attempt to find him." "Do you think that you were wise in that, Mr. Byrd?" inquired Mr. Ferris, with some severity. Horace laughed. "I can find him for you to-day, if you want him," he declared. "You can? You know him, then?" "Very well. Mr. Ferris," he courteously remarked, "I perhaps should have explained to you at the time, that I recognized this person and knew him to be an honest man; but the habits of secrecy in our profession are so fostered by the lives we lead, that we sometimes hold our tongue when it would be better for us to speak. The humpback who talked with us on the court-house steps the morning Mrs. Clemmens was murdered, was not what he seemed, sir. He was a detective; a detective in disguise; a man with whom I never presume to meddle--in other words, our famous Mr. Gryce." "Gryce!--that man!" exclaimed Mr. Ferris, astounded. "Yes, sir. He was in disguise, probably for some purpose of his own, but I knew his eye. Gryce's eye isn't to be mistaken by any one who has much to do with him." "And that famous detective was actually on the spot at the time this murder was discovered, and you let him go without warning me of his presence?"