and death.

The wagon tracks in the lonely street, the broken pieces of glass
and the drops of blood, showing that some occupant of the vehicle
had broken the window, in the hope of escape, perhaps, or to throw
out the package which should bring assistance - all these facts
grouped themselves together in the brain of the intelligent
working-man to form some terrible tragedy where his assistance, if
given at once, might be of great use. He had a warm heart besides,
a heart that reached out to this unknown who was in distress, and
who threw out the call for help which had fallen into his hands.

He waited no longer to ponder over the matter, but started off at
a full run for the nearest police station. He rushed into the room
and told his story breathlessly.

They took him into the next room, the office of the commissioner
for the day. The official in charge, who had been engaged in
earnest conversation with a small, frail-looking, middle-aged man,
turned to Amster with a question as to what brought him there.

"I found this package in the snow."

"Let me see it."

Amster laid it on the table. The older man looked at it, and as
the commissioner was about to open it, he handed him a paper-knife
with the words: "You had better cut it open, sir."

"Why?"