hours. It was still perfectly quiet, except for some one snoring. I thought that would drive me crazy.
"The more I thought of it the worse things looked. The telegram was the first thing against me—it would put the police on my track at once, when it was discovered that the man in lower ten had been killed.
"Then I remembered the notes, and I took out the wallet and opened it."
He stopped for a minute, as if the recalling of the next occurrence was almost beyond him.
"I took out the wallet," he said simply, "and, opening it, held it to the light. In gilt letters was the name, Simon Harrington."
The detectives were leaning forward now, their eyes on his face.
"Things seemed to whirl around for a while. I sat there almost paralyzed, wondering what this new development meant for me.
"My wife, I knew, would swear I had killed her father; nobody would be likely to believe the truth.
"Do you believe me now?" He looked around
