ver speculated, and his
financial relations with Weldon were confined to certain loans made to
the latter, and long since repaid. Nor, through the whole affair, could
the sharpest ear detect so much as the rustle of a petticoat. Inasmuch,
then, as neither of the two great motor forces, woman and gold, was
discernible, it is small wonder that the District Attorney was
perplexed. To that gentleman the case was one of peculiar importance.
His term of office had nearly expired, and he ardently desired
re-election. Two wealthy misdemeanants had recently slipped through his
fingers--not through any fault of his own, but they had slipped, none
the less--and some rhetoric had been employed to show that there was a
law for the poor and a more elastic one for the rich. Now Tristrem's
conviction would be the finest plume he could stick in his hat. The
possessor of an historic name, a member of what is known as the best
society, an habitue of exclusive clubs--a representative, in fact, of
everything that is most hateful to the mob--and yet a murderer. No, such
a prize as that must not be allowed to escape. The District Attorney
felt that, did such a thing occur, he might bid an eternal farewell to
greatness and the bench.

But what was the motive of the crime? Long before that question, which
eventually assumed the proportions of a pyramid, was seriously examined,
it had been demonstrated that the wound from which Weldon had died was
not one that could have been self-inflicted. The theory of suicide was
thereupon and at once abandoned. And those who had been most vehement in
its favor now asserted that Tristrem was insane. What better evidence of
insanity could there be than the giving away of seven millions? But
apart from that, there were a number of people willing to testify that
on shipboard Tristrem's demeanor was that of a lunatic--moreover, did he
not insist that he was perfectly sane, and where was the lunatic that
ever admitted himself to be demented? Of course he was insane.

A committee, however, composed of a lawyer, a layman, and a physician,
visited Tristrem, and announced exactly the contrary. According to their
report, he was as sane as the law allows, and, although that honorable
committee did not seem to suspect it, it may be that he was even a
trifle saner. One of the committee--the layman--started out on his visit
with no inconsiderable trepidation. In after-conversation, he said that
it had never been his priv