“No, no, not mad, only indisposed,” said the colonel, in no degree modifying his opinion.

“Colonel Thornton, if there is anything strange and eccentric in my looks and manner, you must set it down to the strangeness of the position in which I am placed.”

“My dear young lady, Miss Thornton is at the hotel to-day.  Will you permit me to take you to her?”

“You will do as you please, Colonel Thornton, after you shall have heard my testimony and examined the proofs I have to lay before you.  Then I shall permit you to judge of my soundness of mind as you will, premising, however, that my sanity or insanity can have no possible effect upon the proofs that I submit,” she said, laying a packet upon the table between them.

Something in her manner now compelled the magistrate to give her words an attention for which he blamed himself, as for a gross wrong, toward his favorite clergyman.

“Do I understand you to charge Mr. Willcoxen with the death of Miss Mayfield?”

“Yes,” said Miriam, bowing her head.

“What cause, young lady, can you possibly have for making such a monstrous and astounding accusation?”

“I came here for the purpose of telling you, if you will permit me.  Nor do I, since you doubt my reason, ask you to believe my statement, unsupported by proof.”

“Go on, young lady; I am all attention.”

“Will you administer the usual oath?”

“No, Miss Shields; I will hear your story first in the capacity of friend.”

“And you think that the only capacity in which you will be called upon to act?  Well, may Heaven grant it,” said Miriam, and she began and told him all the facts that had recently come to her knowledge, ending by placing the packet of letters in his hands.

While she spoke, Colonel Thornton’s pen was busy making minutes of her statements; when she had concluded, he laid down the pen, and turning to her, asked: 

“You believe, then, that Mr. Willcoxen committed this murder?”

“I know not—­I act only upon the evidence.”

“Circumstantial evidence, often as delusive as it is fatal!  Do you think it possible that Mr. Willcoxen could have meditated such a crime?”

“No, no, no, no! never meditated it!  If he committed it, it was unpremeditated, unintentional; the accident of some lover’s quarrel, some frenzy of passion, jealousy—­I know not what!”

“Let me ask you, then, why you volunteer to prosecute?”

“Because I must do so.  But tell me, do you think what I have advanced trivial and unimportant?” asked Miriam, in a hopeful tone, for little she thought of herself, if only her obligation were discharged, and her brother still unharmed.

“On the contrary, I think it so important as to constrain my instant attention, and oblige me to issue a warrant for the apprehension of Mr. Thurston Willcoxen,” said Colonel Thornton, as he wrote rapidly, filling out several blank documents.  Then he rang a bell, that was answered by the entrance of several police officers.  To the first he gave a warrant, saying: