“Where are your friends?” said one.
“Alas, I know not,” cried Ada, mournfully. “Tell me, is he whom I denounced in the street taken prisoner?”
“No, not that I am aware of,” said a man. “There has been one here who says he ran up the Strand like a madman and escaped.”
Ada shuddered as she said,—
“Let him go now; his own conscience must be punishment enough. Let him go now.”
“What has he done?” said several voices at once.
“Murder,” said Ada. “My eyes were shocked with the sight of blood. He is a murderer.”
“A murderer?”
“Yes—I saw him do the deed.”
“What’s his name?”