upon all sides, yelling and screaming, and the street being thus pretty
clear, Captain Morgan ran across the way to where his victim lay, his
smoking pistol still in his hand, and our hero following close at his
heels.

Our poor Harry had never before beheld a man killed thus in an instant
who a moment before had been so full of life and activity, for when
Captain Morgan turned the body over upon its back he could perceive at
a glance, little as he knew of such matters, that the man was stone
dead. And, indeed, it was a dreadful sight for him who was hardly more
than a child. He stood rooted for he knew not how long, staring down at
the dead face with twitching fingers and shuddering limbs. Meantime a
great crowd was gathering about them again.

As for Captain Morgan, he went about his work with the utmost coolness
and deliberation imaginable, unbuttoning the waistcoat and the shirt of
the man he had murdered with fingers that neither twitched nor shook.
There were a gold cross and a bunch of silver medals hung by a
whip-cord about the neck of the dead man. This Captain Morgan broke away
with a snap, reaching the jingling baubles to Harry, who took them in
his nerveless hand and fingers that he could hardly close upon what
they held.

The papers Captain Morgan found in a wallet in an inner breast-pocket
of the Spaniard's waistcoat. These he examined one by one, and finding
them to his satisfaction, tied them up again, and slipped the wallet
and its contents into his own pocket.

Then for the first time he appeared to observe Master Harry, who,
indeed, must have been standing the perfect picture of horror and