"I was scairt. I didn’t want to. I kep’ dreamin’ of it at night and I didn’t know what to do. And this mornin’ when Paw and Maw was gassin’ about the suicide I just busted out. I—I——" his lips trembled and the tears welled into his eyes. "It’s thrue what he says, every word," said Mrs. Meagher. "It’s sick he’s been ever sence, and me crazy not knowin’ what was eatin’ into him. And this mornin’ he breaks into a holler and out it comes." As she was speaking the old man patted the thin hand, eyeing the child with a deep, quiet kindliness. "You’re a wise boy, Dannie," said he. "And you want to keep on being a wise boy and not tell anyone. Will you answer a question or two, saying when you don’t know or don’t remember? I’ll see that you get something pretty nice afterward, if you do." "Yes," says Dannie, "I’ll answer." "Could you see what the man looked like, the man that was alive?" "No—I wasn’t near enough. They was like—like"—he paused and then said, his eyes showing a troubled bewilderment—"like shadows." "He would have seen the figures in silhouette," George explained, "black against the lit window." "That’s it," he turned eagerly to George. "And it was acrost the street and the houses on Broadway." "Um," said the chief, "too far for any detail. Well, this man, the one that went on his hands and knees, was he a fat man?" The child shook his head. "No, sir. He—he was just like lots of men." "Now look over these three gentlemen," said the chief, waving his hand at us. "Which of them looks most like him? Not their faces, but their bodies." Dannie looked at us critically and carefully. His eye passed quickly over Babbitts, medium height, broad and stocky, lingered on me, six feet two with the longest reach in my class at Harvard, then brought up on George, who tips the beam at one hundred and sixty pounds. "Most like him," he said, pointing a little finger at the junior member of Whitney & Whitney. "Skinny like him." "Very well done, Dannie," said the old man, then turned to George. "Lightly built. He would have no means of judging height." George took up the interrogation: "Could you see at all what kind of clothes he wore?" "No—he went too quick." "And he looked over at your building?" "Yes—but he couldn’t have seen anything. Maw’s floors was all dark." "Did you see him come out of the room again?" "No. I was that scairt I crep’ away back to where Maw was." "Come in to me like a specter," said Mrs. Meagher. "And not a word out of him only that he was cold." "Well, Mrs. Meagher," said the chief, "this is a great service you’ve done us, and it’s up to us to do something for you." "Oh, your Honor," she answered, "it’s not pay I’m wantin’. It was my dooty and I done it. Now, Dannie boy, it’s time we was gettin’ home."