far side of the platform. An intelligent, inveterate and persevering curiosity was Mr. MacAlister's dominating characteristic, and as soon as he had got his distinguished kinsman out of earshot of the herd, he inquired in a hushed voice:
"And what's doing aboot the murder noo, George?"
The superintendent pursed his lips and shook his head.
"Aye, man, yon's a proper puzzle," said he.
"But you'll have gotten a guid idea whae's din it by noo, George?" said Mr. MacAlister persuasively.
"Weel," admitted the superintendent, we maybe have our notions, but there's no evidence yet, Robbie; that's the fair truth. As the fiscal says, there's no evidence."
"I'd like fine to hae a crack wi' you aboot it, George," sighed Mr. MacAlister. "I may tell you I've notions of ma own; no bad notions either."
"Well," said the superintendent, moving off, "I'd have enjoyed a crack myself if it wasna that I've got to be off by this train—"
"Man!" cried his kinsman, "I'm for off by her mysel'! Come on, we'll hae our crack yet."
The tickets had already been taken and the doors were closed as the two recrossed the platform.
"This carriage is empty," said the superintendent, and threw open the door of the same compartment he had almost entered before.
