"But, your Honor, when an anonymous letter is full of lies and slanders, I respectfully submit that it is a piece of cowardly malice, which the law ought to punish with the utmost severity." Fayette Overtop spoke with tranquillity and firmness, looking young Van Quintem directly in the eye, and making him quail. The judicious phrase, "Your Honor," alone saved Overtop from an explosion of official wrath. "The Court can't allow these interruptions, Mr. Overtop," said the coroner. "Her dignity must be maintained. As for 'nonymous letters, whether it's right or wrong to send them, people will differ. The coroner and the jury is competent to judge for themselves. Go ahead, Myndert." "As the first letter seemed to have no effect, I sent another, suggesting that Mr. Minford should inquire into Mr. Wilkeson's history in the little village of----, Westchester County, where he was born, and lived many years. I learned from Miss Minford that her father visited Westchester County one day, and presume that he made some important discoveries there; for Miss Minford told me, that, on his return, he had forbidden Mr. Wilkeson to come to the house. If there was any harm in putting Mr. Minford on the track to find out the real truth about the man who was a constant attendant at his fireside, I do not see it." "Nor I neither," said the coroner. "The end, as the sayin' is, justifies the means." "If your Honor pleases," said the facile Overtop, "we could easily prove that all the reports which Mr. Minford gathered in Westchester County, prejudicial to my client, arose from a confounding of another person with him. But, as this explanation would involve the disclosure of private family affairs, and also the reflection of disgrace on the memory of the dead, my client prohibits me from saying more on the subject. But all this, as none knows better than your Honor, has nothing to do with the case. We ask that my client shall either be proved guilty of the murder, or of some knowledge of it, or released." Fayette Overtop here looked volumes of confidence at the jury; and five of the jury looked back volumes of agreement with him. "Nobody can be in a bigger hurry than me, Mr. Overtop," said the coroner, with tolerable good nature. "These 'ere inquests, commencin' in the mornin' and holdin' on a good part of the day, are rather hard on a chap 'customed to his 'leven-o'clock drink. I have to make up for the loss by adjournin' early in the arternoon. Ha! ha! Now, Myndert, my boy, rush her through. You don't know anythin' about the murder, I s'pose. You were somewhere else on the fatal night, of course--and I can guess where. At Brown's, eh?" Brown's was a notorious gambling house on Broadway. "Exactly, Harry. I was at Brown's from nine P.M. to four o'clock the following morning. And, if I mistake not, there is a gentleman in this room who can swear to having seen me there, say from ten to eleven." Saying this, young Van Quintem winked hard at the coroner.