han his
passion-distorted one.

"It is not strange that my wife thinks me demented," the doctor
continued, as if afraid of the silence that answered him. "But it is
your business to discriminate, and you should know a sane man when you
see him."

Inspector D---- no longer hesitated.

"Very well," said he, "give me the least proof that your assertions are
true, and we will lay your case before the prosecuting attorney."

"Proof? Is not a man's word--"

"No man's confession is worth much without some evidence to support
it. In your case there is none. You cannot even produce the pistol with
which you assert yourself to have committed the deed."

"True, true. I was frightened by what I had done, and the instinct of
self-preservation led me to rid myself of the weapon in any way I could.
But someone found this pistol; someone picked it up from the sidewalk of
Lafayette Place on that fatal night. Advertise for it. Offer a reward.
I will give you the money." Suddenly he appeared to realize how all this
sounded. "Alas!" cried he, "I know the story seems improbable; but it is
not the probable things that happen in this life, as, you should know,
who every day dig deep into the heart of human affairs."

Were these the ravings of insanity? I began to understand the wife's
terror.

"I bought the pistol," he went on, "of--alas! I cannot tell you his
name. Everything is against me. I cannot adduce one proof; yet even she
is beginning to fear that my story is true. I know it by her silence, a
silence that yawns between us like a deep and unfathomable gulf."

But at these words her voice rang out with passionate vehemence.

"No, no, it is false! I will never believe that your hands have been
plunged in blood. You are my own pure-hearted Constant, cold, perhaps,
and stern, but with no guilt upon your conscience save in your own wild
imagination."

"Zulma, you are no friend to me," he declared, pushing her gently aside.
"Believe me innocent, but say nothing to lead these others to doubt my
word."

And she said no more, but her looks spoke volumes.

The result was that he was not detained, though he prayed for instant
commitment. He seemed to dread his own home, and the surveillance to
which he instinctively knew he would henceforth be subjected. To see him
shrink from his wife's hand as she strove to lead him from the room was
sufficiently painful; but the feeling thus aroused was nothing to that
with which we observed