were his first words.
"Who told you?"
"No one told me, but I know it, and I thank God for it."
There was something in the stranger's intense earnestness that convinced me of his right to speak thus, and I listened attentively.
"That you may have confidence in the statement I am about to make, I will first tell you who I am"; and he handed me a card that caused me to lift my eyes in wonder, for it bore a very great name, that of one of Europe's most famous savants.
"You have done me much honour, sir," I said with respectful inclination.
"On the contrary you will oblige me by considering me in your debt, and by never revealing my connection with this wretched man. I am moved to speak partly from considerations of human justice, largely in the interest of medical science. It is right for me to tell you, doctor, that your patient was beyond question the Water Street assassin."
"Impossible!" I cried.
"You will not say so when I have finished my story, which t