At this moment two others appeared on the ground--Hiram Shanks, the queer
peddler, and Ransom Vane.
"You have the right man, gentlemen," said Shanks. "These two resemble
each other strangely, and it is this resemblance that has baffled
detectives, and made trouble for an honest man."
All eyes were fixed on the speaker, who adjusted the black patch on his
blind eye, and spoke with the vigor of a man who knew that he was right.
"Yes," put in Ransom Vane, "there has been a great mistake. This man,"
pointing to Barkswell, "is the outlaw, and by confounding him with Mr.
Bordine an innocent man has been deeply wronged."
"It is false--"
"Never mind putting in your lip," sneered the irrepressible peddler.
"There's crimes enough against you, young man, to sink you to perdition.
You are now arrested for the murder of a beautiful, innocent girl--"
"But I never harmed her, I swear it," cried the prisoner, trembling with
deep excitement.
"Who did, then?"
"I don't know; but--"
"Is this yours?"
Shanks held up a gleaming dagger.
"No," with a start.
"You have seen the weapon before?"
"Yes.
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