CHAPTER XIII.
DESPAIR.
Was it?
Tragedies as unpremeditated as this had doubtless occurred, and inconsistencies in character shown themselves in similar impetuosities, from the beginning of time up till now.

Yet there was not a man present, with or without the memory of Bartow's pantomime, which, as you will recall, did not tally at all with this account of Mr.Adams's violent end, who did not show in a greater or less degree his distrust and evident disbelief in this tale, poured out with such volubility before them.
The young man, gifted as he was with the keenest susceptibilities, perceived this, and his head drooped.
"I shall add nothing to and take nothing from what I have said," was his dogged remark.

"Make of it what you will." The inspector who was conducting the inquiry glanced dubiously at Mr.
Gryce as these words left Thomas Adams's lips; whereupon the detective said: "We are sorry you have taken such a resolution.

There are many things yet left to be explained, Mr.Adams; for instance, why, if your brother slew himself in this unforeseen manner, you left the house so precipitately, without giving an alarm or even proclaiming your relationship to him ?" "You need not answer, you know," the inspector's voice broke in.

"No man is called upon to incriminate himself in this free and independent country." A smile, the saddest ever seen, wandered for a minute over the prisoner's pallid lips.