The judge sank back in his chair, and his head dropped upon his breast. It was sometime before he spoke,—
"I have heard of your story before," he said, in a tremulous voice. "And now answer me one question," he continued in a firmer voice.—"Did you commit the murder for which you were arrested?"
"I can't expect you to believe an old cuss like me, but I certainly did not," responded Ninety-One.
"How came you in the room next to the one in which the murdered man was found?"
"I was took there by a friend, who offered to hide me from the folks who were arter me, about Israel's valise."
The judge seemed buried in thought.
"And after the murder was discovered, and you were arrested and pinioned, the same friend appeared once more, and aided your escape?"
"It was a friend," dryly responded Ninety-One,—"can't say what he looked like, as the room was as black as your hat, (purviden you don't wear a white hat)."
"Did you commit the robbery on the railroad cars, last night?"
"I'll be straight up and down with you, boss," said Ninety-One,—"I did not,—and nobody didn't. The money was found on the track, after the smashin' up o' the cars."