How many luckless criminals have been startled by those words! How many have seen the prison or the gallows rise before them at the sound! 

 In this case, however, the words seemed to produce less than the ordinary effect. 

 The man to whom they were addressed turned suddenly toward the detective, but did not shrink or tremble. 

 "I beg your pardon," said he; "I didn't quite understand what you said." 

 The man's coolness made Nick even more in doubt about Gaspard's identification. 

 After boarding the train they had walked through it hurriedly, and in the car next the engine Gaspard had clutched Nick's arm, whispering: 

 "There is your man!" 

 The person indicated was well-dressed, rather good-looking, and about thirty-five years old. There was nothing particularly striking about his appearance. 

 It would have been easy to have found dozens of such men on lower Broadway any day. 

 Nick feared a mistake. But Gaspard was sure. 

 "I never forget a face," he said. "That is the man whom I saw coming out of room B. That is the murderer." 

 The man was standing up and holding on to one of the straps. His profile was turned to them. 

 Nick waited until he turned and showed his full face. The detective was bound to give Gaspard every chance to change his mind. 

 But he remained firm, and at last Nick approached the accused and suddenly whispered the terrifying words in his ear. 

 Having done so, he was obliged to carry it through. Therefore, when the stranger asked Nick to repeat what he had said, the detective, in a low voice, inaudible to anybody else in the car, told him what the accusation was. 

 "This is ridiculous," said the man. "I read the story of this affair in the papers this morning, but I am not connected with it in any way. If you arrest me, you must be prepared to take the consequences." 

 "I guess we can manage the affair quietly," said Nick, "and give you no trouble at all. I suppose you were going downtown to business?" 

 "Yes." 

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