"Address the cheer," he mildly exclaimed, as the debate grew warm. "Allow me to remark, gentlemen, that Stuffletz, there, is very sensible. Stuff., you think as the coroner's inquest will be held up-stairs by arly daylight to-morrow mornin' it 'ud be better to keep the prisoner there so as to confront him with the body? That's your opinion, Stuff. Well, I can't speak for you, gentlemen, as I don't b'long to the reg'lar police,--(I'm only an _extra_, you know!)--but it seems to me, Stuff. is right. Therefore, let the prisoner stay up-stairs all night; the room is safe, and I'll watch him mesself. Beside, you don't think he's a-goin' to tumble himself out of a third story winder, or vanish in a puff o' brimstone, as the devil does in the new play at the Bowery--do you?" There was no one to gainsay the strong position thus assumed by Poke-Berry Blossom, Esq. "And then I kin have a little private chat with him, in regard to the $71,000,--I guess I can," he muttered to himself. "What's the occasion of this confusion?" said a bland voice; and, clad in his elegant white coat, with his cloak drooping from his right shoulder, Colonel Tarleton advanced from the doorway to the light. "Passing by I saw Mr. Somers' door open, and hear an uproar,--what is the matter, gentlemen? My old friend, Mr. Somers, is not ill, I hope?" "Evelyn, his son, has been shot," bluntly responded Blossom--"by an old convict, who had hid himself in the third story, with the idea o' attackin' old Somers' cash-box and jugular." Colonel Tarleton, evidently shocked, raised his hand to his forehead and staggered to a chair. "Evelyn shot!" he gasped, after a long pause.--"Surely you dream. The particulars, the particulars--" Blossom recapitulated the particulars of the case, according to the best of his knowledge. "It is too horrible, too horrible," cried Tarleton, and his extreme agitation was perceptible to the policemen. "My young friend Evelyn murdered! Ah!--" he started from the chair, and fell back again with his head in his hands. "But we've got the old rag'muffin," cried Blossom, "safe and tight; third story, back room." Tarleton started from the chair and approached Blossom,--his pale face stamped with hatred and revenge. "Mr. Blossom," he said, and snatched the revolver from the pocket of the rubicund gentleman. "Hah! it's loaded in six barrels! Murdered Evelyn--in the back room you say--I'll have the scoundrel's life!" He snatched the candle from the table, and rushed to the door. The policemen did not recover from their surprise, until they heard his steps on the stairs.