"Keep Miss Susan there with you," he warned me. "He's dead, and not a pretty sight." Slowly they came back to us. Pursuivant was thoughtful, while O'Bryant, Zoberg's killer, seemed cheerful for the first time since I had met him. He even smiled at me, as Punch would smile after striking a particularly telling blow with his cudgel. Rubbing his pistol caressingly with his palm, he stowed it carefully away. "I'm glad that's over," he admitted. "My brother can rest easy in his grave." "And we have our work cut out for us," responded the judge. "We must decide just how much of the truth to tell when we make a report." O'Bryant dipped his head in sage acquiescence. "You're right," he rumbled. "Yes, sir, you're right." "Would you believe me," said the judge, "if I told you that I knew it was Zoberg, almost from the first?" But Susan and I, facing each other, were beyond being surprized, even at that. THE END