"Good, so far," said Marcus. "You have already given us a general description of this fellow's dress and appearance. Now, tell me whether his face is pale, his mustache small and curved up in points, his eyes light gray, and never looking straight at you; his nose small, thin, and sharp; and, now I think of it, has he not got a small scar on one of his cheeks?"
"Why, Mr. Wilkeson," exclaimed the boy Bog, "that's the very chap!"
"Who is he?" asked the lieutenant of police, "that I may have him arrested at once."
"He is the son--"
CHAPTER V.
THE SORROW OF WHITE HAIRS
At that moment the door opened, and the venerable form of Myndert Van Quintem appeared before them. Marcus cast a hasty glance, importing silence, at his companions, and rose to receive his old friend.
Mr. Van Quintem's face expressed the tenderest compassion. He clasped Marcus's hand, and said:
"My young friend, it deeply grieves me to see you here; for I feel--I may say I know morally--that you are innocent of any part in this murder."