I had been a junior partner in the firm of Veeley, Carr & Raymond, attorneys and counsellors at law, for about a year, when one morning, in the temporary absence of both Mr. Veeley and Mr. Carr, there came into our office a young man whose whole appearance was so indicative of haste and agitation that I involuntarily rose at his approach and impetuously inquired: “What is the matter? You have no bad news to tell, I hope.” “I have come to see Mr. Veeley; is he in?” “No,” I replied; “he was unexpectedly called away this morning to Washington; cannot be home before to-morrow; but if you will make your business known to me——” “To you, sir?” he repeated, turning a very cold but steady eye on mine; then, seeming to be satisfied with his scrutiny, continued, “There is no reason why I shouldn’t; my business is no secret. I came to inform him that Mr. Leavenworth is dead.” “Mr. Leavenworth!” I exclaimed, falling back a step. Mr. Leavenworth was an old client of our firm, to say nothing of his being the particular friend of Mr. Veeley. “Yes, murdered; shot through the head by some unknown person while sitting at his library table.” “Shot! murdered!” I could scarcely believe my ears.