As she spoke several persons entered the office in a state of high excitement—all talking at once, saying:
"That is the girl!"
"Yes, that is her!"
"She is Miss Black, old Warfield's niece."
"Yes, he said she was," etc., etc., etc.
"What is all this, neighbors, what is all this?" inquired the troubled magistrate, rising in his place.
"Why, sir, there's been a gentleman, Mr. Craven Le Noir, shot. He has been taken to the Antlers, where he lies in articulus mortis, and we wish him to be confronted with Miss Capitola Black, the young woman here present, that he may identify her, whom he accuses of having shot six charges into him, before his death. She needn't deny it, because he is ready to swear to her!" said Mr. Merry, who constituted himself spokesman.
"She accuses herself," said the magistrate, in dismay.
"Then, sir, had she not better be taken at once to the presence of Mr. Le Noir, who may not have many minutes to live?"
"Yes, come along," said Cap. "I only gave myself up to wait for this; and as he is already at hand, let's go and have it all over, for I have been riding about in this frosty morning air for three hours, and I have got a good appetite, and I want to go home to breakfast."