as far as the cars,
and Dr. Zabriskie was just stepping on to the train, when a man pushed
himself hurriedly between them and whispered something into his master's
ear, which caused him to fall back and lose his footing. Dr. Zabriskie's
body slid half under the car, but he was withdrawn before any harm
was done, though the cars gave a lurch at that moment which must have
frightened him exceedingly, for his face was white when he rose to his
feet, and when Leonard offered to assist him again on the train, he
refused to go and said he would return home and not attempt to ride to
Poughkeepsie that night.

The gentleman, whom Leonard now saw to be Mr. Stanton, an intimate
friend of Dr. Zabriskie, smiled very queerly at this, and taking the
doctor's arm led him back to his own auto. Leonard naturally followed
them, but the doctor, hearing his steps, turned and bade him, in a
very peremptory tone, to take the cars home, and then, as if on second
thought, told him to go to Poughkeepsie in his stead and explain to the
people there that he was too shaken up by his misstep to do his duty,
and that he would be with them next morning. This seemed strange to
Leonard, but he had no reasons for disobeying his master's orders, and
so rode to Poughkeepsie. But the doctor did not follow him the next day;
on the contrary he telegraphed for him to return, and when he got back
dismissed him with a month's wages. This ended Leonard's connection with
the Zabriskie family.

A simple story bearing out what the wife has already told us; but it
furnishes a link which may prove invaluable. Mr. Stanton, whose first
name is Theodore, knows the real reason why Dr. Zabriskie returned
home on the night of the seventeenth of July, 19--. Mr. Stanton,
consequently, is the man to see, and this shall be my business tomorrow.

Checkmate! Theodore Stanton is not in this country. Though this points
him out as the man from whom Dr. Zabriskie bought the pistol, it does
not facilitate my work, which is becoming more and more difficult.

Mr. Stanton's whereabouts are not even known to his most intimate
friends. He sailed from this country most unexpectedly on the eighteenth
of July a year ago, which was the day after the murder of Mr. Hasbrouck.
It looks like a flight, especially as he has failed to maintain open
communication even with his relatives. Was he the man who shot Mr.
Hasbrouck? No; but he was the man who put the pistol in Dr. Zabriskie's
hand that