The black eyes of the ubiquitous Brown were upon the two men as they stood talking, but he was too far away to hear what was transpiring between them.
"What can they have against you any how?" inquired Sommers. "Surely there must be some ground of suspicion upon which to base their charge."
"Ah, you do not know. After the old man was murdered; I was arrested; I was closely questioned, and I did say some things that I should not have said. I had no lawyer, and a white-haired fox whose name was Illing did every thing he could against me. I did not have an opportunity to explain myself at all."
"That was too bad, indeed," added Sommers; "but it can all be shown right upon the trial, and then you will come out safely."
"Oh, yes, it will come out all right on the trial, I know, for then I will have my lawyers to defend me."
"But, tell me, William, how did this murder occur?"
Thus questioned, Bucholz, without hesitation, at once commenced and related to his friend the circumstances of the affair, adhering strictly to the same story which he had told at the inquest, and which he had religiously repeated ever since.
While they were thus conversing, the jailer came to lock them in their cells for the night. Brown slipped quietly away, and the two men, thus so strangely thrown together, shook hands and retired to their separate apartments, where they spent the night in slumber. But ah, how pleasant or how fatiguing was that slumber!
Bucholz passes a Sleepless Night.—An Important Discovery.—The Finding of the Watch of the Murdered Man.—Edward Sommers consoles the Distressed Prisoner.