tleman's clothes, and you've probably got the murderer."
"I went to bed in lower nine," I said, my mind full again of my lost papers, "and I wakened in number seven. I was up in the night prowling around, as I was unable to sleep, and I must have gone back to the wrong berth. Anyhow, until the porter wakened me this morning I knew nothing of my mistake. In the interval the thief—murderer, too, perhaps—must have come back, discovered my error, and taken advantage of it to further his escape."
The inquisitive man looked at me from between narrowed eyelids, ferret-like.
"Did any one on the train suspect you of having valuable papers?" he inquired. The crowd was listening intently.
"No one," I answered promptly and positively.
The doctor was investigating the murdered man's effects. The pockets of his trousers contained the usual miscellany of keys and small change, while in his hip pocket was found a small pearl-handled revolver of the type women
