upon the public benches of the court, as if it were seeking some person
there.

"There is a witness who has volunteered a statement to the police," said
the Coroner. "I understand it is highly important. We had better hear him
at this point. Benjamin Hollinshaw!"

Melky uttered a curious groan, and glanced at Lauriston.

"Fellow what has a shop right opposite!" he whispered. "S'elp me!--what's
he got to say about it?"

Benjamin Hollinshaw came forward. He was a rather young, rather self-
confident, self-important sort of person, who strode up to the witness-box
as if he had been doing things of importance and moment all his life, and
was taking it quite as a matter of course that he should do another. He
took the oath and faced the court with something of an air, as much as to
imply that upon what he was about to say more depended than any one could
conceive. Invited to tell what he knew, he told his story, obviously
enjoying the telling of it. He was a tradesman in Praed Street: a dealer
in second-hand clothing, to be exact; been there many years, in succession
to his father. He remembered yesterday afternoon, of course. About half-
past-five o'clock he was standing at the door of his shop. It was directly
facing Daniel Multenius's shop door. The darkness had already come on, and
there was also a bit of a fog in the street: not much, but hazy, as it
were. Daniel Multenius's window was lighted, but the light was confined to
a couple of gas-jets. There was a light in the projecting sign over the
side entrance to the pawnshop, down the passage. For the first few minutes
while he stood at his door, looking across to Multenius's, he did not see
any one enter or leave that establishment. But he then saw a young man