Trant turned as though to reopen the door into the hall; then paused once more and kindly faced the girl.
"I know, Miss Waldron," he said, "that you have believed that Mr. Lawler has been dead these six weeks; and it is only because I am so certain that the man who is to be identified here now will prove to be that same Lawler that I have thought best to let you know in advance."
He threw open the door, and stood back to allow the Irish watchman to enter, preceded by the weasel-faced stranger. Then he closed the door quickly behind him, locked it, put the key in his pocket, and spun swiftly to see the effect of the stranger upon Axton.
That young man's face, despite his effort to control it, flushed and paled, flushed and went white again; but neither to Caryl nor the girl did it look at all like the face of one who saw a dead friend alive again.
"I do not know him!" Axton's eyes glanced quickly, furtively about. "I have never seen him before! Why have you brought him here? This is not Lawler!"
"No; he is not Lawler," Trant agreed; and at his signal the Irishman left his place and went to stand behind Axton. "But you know him, do you not? You have seen him before! Surely I need not recall to you this special officer Burns of the San Francisco detective bureau! That is right; you had better keep hold of him, Sullivan; and now, Burns, who is this man? Do you know him? Can you tell us who he is?"
"Do I know him?" the detective laughed. "Can I
