matched only at its maker's. It was less hardly
twisted than such cord commonly is; it had less
gloss than usual, owing to stint of the size;
and, moreover, it was unevenly spun, there
having been an unusual number of the flaky
stumps of the hemp, called "roots," left behind
after the heckling. It would not have been
difficult to find a ball of cord showing any one
of these peculiarities singly; it would have been
more difficult to procure one to match, so far as
regarded any two of them only; but the
prisoner's attorney failed entirely in the endeavour
to procure ready-made, at other shops, cord which
he could not readily distinguish from that sold
by Mr. Blount. The string-maker could
confidently swear to his own work, and he accounted
for its peculiarity by explaining that the hemp he
works up is mostly his own property, and not
material entrusted to him for manufacture, and
that he carries it through all the processes with
his own hands. Hence he makes the most of
his own hemp by leaving more of the roots
behind in the heckling. Twisting it less tightly,
was another act of thrift, because the tighter the
twist, the shorter the length of cord got out of
the same weight of material. They were small
balls, into which the cord was to be made for
Mr. Blount; and it was further explained that if
the cord were twisted hard, and much polished
with size, the string in small balls would slip
and unwind, though in large balls it would hold
together very well.

Against such accusing evidence as this, what
could be said; when there was no evidence to
prove that the prisoner was not at Wegby on
the night of the murder? The verdict of Not
Guilty, or, as the Scotch would rather have said,
Not Proven, was founded upon coincidences
not less curious than those which pointed to the
guilt of the accused. We will take the three
grounds of suspicion— more than suspicion— and
see how there was doubt cast upon each.

First, to the argument derived from the
documents found in the room, stood opposed the
explanation— at first sight a mere clumsy invention
—which the prisoner, when at the second hearing
before the justices he owned to his real name,
gave, to account both for his having assumed an
alias and for his papers having been found where
he could not himself have been, unless he were,
at least, a party to the murder. While wandering
about, destitute, in the streets of London, he
accosted," he said, "a fellow-countryman, who
led him into an eating-house to give him relief,
and who there read to him the newspaper
account of the inquest, and casually informed him
that two Germans, of whom one bore the name
of Karl Kranz, were charged with the murder.
Thereupon he became much alarmed, and took
another name. He added this account of
himself: That, having landed at Hull, he travelled
thence on foot to London, and, on the way, fell
in with two fellow-countrymen, sailors, of whom
one was named Adolf Mohn, and the other, a
man of about the prisoner's own stature and
complexion, William, named Gerstenberg. That,
Gerstenberg had no papers, and was always soliciting
Kranz to give him some: Kranz always
refusing. That, one evening in May all three
laid themselves down to sleep behind a lump of
straw in the open fields, where Kranz, upon
waking in the morning, found his two
companions gone. They had carried off, also, his
travelling-bag, containing a change of clothes
made from the same pieces of cloth as the
clothes worn by him, and also his papers, which
he enumerated. His enumeration included one
not found in the chamber at Wegby. It will be
seen here, assuming the truth of the story, that
Gerstenberg must have resembled Kranz
sufficiently to think himself able to pass with Kranz's
papers, and that he carried off a duplicate suit
of Kranz's clothes, with which upon his back he
would very closely resemble the man he had
robbed. Kranz's statement was delivered on
the eighth of July.

It could be proved that the prisoner had a
pack when he landed in England, and he was
known to be without one when apprehended.
But then he was destitute, and might have
turned into food all that was not on his back.
Still, there had been the pack. The prisoner's
attorney, also, procured information which,
although inadmissible as evidence, really
confirmed the prisoner's statement, so far as the
travelling with the sailors went. Evidence was
also given that he had spoken of the loss of his
pack and papers before he was apprehended,
though not before suspicion had attached to
him. At the trial, however, a most remarkable
discovery was made in court, which gave
unexpected credibility to the whole story of the theft
of the papers.

The prisoner's counsel had resolved simply to
urge that two of the documents found tied
together in the packet— namely the letter signed
"Adolf Mohn" and that of the German opera-
singer— were proved to have been delivered on
the Friday next before the murder, to a person
other than the prisoner, and not identifiable
with the prisoner's assumed companion and
accomplice at Wegby; also, that the addresses
written on the slip of paper were not in the
prisoner's handwriting. It was thence to be
inferred, he would urge, that the older documents
being tied up with those very lately procured by
another person, the prisoner was not at that
time the holder of his own papers. To this end
it was purposed that the prisoner's attorney,
who— having been his interpreter on the
eighth of July, when he told his story to the
justices— was to be called as a witness for the
prosecution, should, in cross-examination, give
evidence that the letter signed " Adolf Mohn,"
and the writing on the slip of paper, were not in
the prisoner's hand. The question to the
attorney whether he knew the prisoner's
handwriting, came, however, unexpectedly from the
prosecution. A manuscript book was shown to
him, and he was asked, " Is that in the prisoner's
handwriting?" Not knowing what fatal
disclosure it might contain to the destruction of
his client's case, the witness honestly answered
"Yes;" and the book being then read was