"I did, yer Honor. It was about twelve o'clock. I was sittin' on a bar'l in front of Pat McKibbin's store, corner of Washin'ton and ---- streets. I was watchin' the bar'l, yer Honor, becos Pat McKibbin had some of 'em stole lately, ye see." "Could yer swear to him, Mr. O'Dougherty?" "Could I shwear to me own mother?--Hivin rest her sowl! Bedad, I shud know him a thousan' years from now. Didn't he shtop and light his siggar at me poipe? And didn't his nose touch me own?" "Did he look pale and excited?" asked the coroner. "No, yer Honor; his face was red as a brick, an', though it was a cowld night, he looked to be warm wid fasht walkin'." "Did he say anythin'?" "No; he only axed for a light." "Was his 'pearance 'spicious?" "No, yer Honor, more'n yer own. No offince to yez." "That'll do, Mr. O'Dougherty. Next witness." "If you please, your Honor," said the smooth Overtop, rising, "you have accidentally omitted to ask one very important question. The prisoner stated, on his preliminary examination, you remember, that, when he stopped to light a cigar from the pipe of a policeman, he heard the sound of a fire bell commencing to strike. Miss Minford testifies, that when she was roused from sleep by the noise of her father falling to the floor, she heard the alarm for the Seventh District. McKibbin's store, at the corner of Washington and ---- streets, is more than half a mile from here. In view of these facts, I will, with your Honor's permission, ask Mr. O'Dougherty if he heard the fire alarm that night; and, if so, whether the prisoner was in sight at the time?" "Shure, an' I heerd it," answered the O'Dougherty. "It was fur the Seventh District. An' wasn't this gin'leman here at the ind o' me poipe, jist when it begun to bang away?" Overtop cast one triumphant glance at the jury, which was fully reciprocated by the foreman and four others. "I have no more questions to ask, your Honor," said Overtop. "Nor I," said the coroner, "as the witness's testimony has no great bearin' on the case, that I can see. What is jour name, Mister--er--" "Thomas Jelliman," responded the second policeman, a stout, bluff, honest-looking fellow. He did not say "Your Honor," and thereby offended the coroner. "Well, what's yer bizness, anyhow?" asked the coroner, curtly. "I should think you would remember that I was a policeman," said the witness, looking the coroner straight in the eye. The coroner, taking a second observation of the witness, recalled him as the identical officer who had arrested him, one Christmas night, for drunkenness, and locked him up in the station house. This little occurrence was before his election to the dignified and responsible office of County Coroner. "If you don't remember me," said the witness, "I think I could bring myself to your mind easy. On a certain Christmas night, not many years ago--"