eply; you had better keep to the how."

A deep-drawn breath from the wife answered the looks of the three
gentlemen to whom this suggestion was offered. "You see," that breath
seemed to protest, "that he is not in his right mind."

I began to waver in my own opinion, and yet the intuition which has
served me in cases seemingly as impenetrable as this bade me beware of
following the general judgment.

"Ask him to inform you how he got into the house," I whispered to
Inspector D--, who sat nearest me.

Immediately the inspector put the question which I had suggested:

"By what means did you enter Mr. Hasbrouck's house at so late an hour as
this murder occurred?"

The blind doctor's head fell forward on his breast, and he hesitated for
the first and only time.

"You will not believe me," said he; "but the door was ajar when I came
to it. Such things make crime easy; it is the only excuse I have to
offer for this dreadful deed."

The front door of a respectable citizen's house ajar at half-past eleven
at night! It was a statement that fixed in all minds the conviction of
the speaker's irresponsibility. Mrs. Zabriskie's brow cleared, and
her beauty became for a moment dazzling as she held out her hands in
irrepressible relief towards those who were interrogating her husband.
I alone kept my impassibility. A possible explanation of this crime
had flashed like lightning across my mind; an explanation from which I
inwardly recoiled, even while I felt forced to consider it.

"Dr. Zabriskie," remarked the inspector formerly mentioned as friendly
to him, "such old servants as those kept by Mr. Hasbrouck do not leave
the front door ajar at twelve o'clock at night."

"Yet ajar it was," repeated the blind doctor, with quiet emphasis; "and
finding it so, I went in. When I came out again, I closed it. Do you
wish me to swear to what I say? If so, I am ready."

What reply could they give? To see this splendid-looking man, hallowed
by an affliction so great that in itself it called forth the compassion
of the most indifferent, accusing himself of a cold-blooded crime, in
tones which sounded dispassionate because of the will forcing their
utterance, was too painful in itself for any one to indulge in
unnecessary words. Compassion took the place of curiosity, and each and
all of us turned involuntary looks of pity upon the young wife pressing
so eagerly to his side.

"For a blind man," ventured one, "the assault was both deft