ly. This
he had come to recognize.

The case (well known at the time) was, in the fewest possible words, as
follows:

On a sultry night in September, a young couple living in one of the
large apartment houses in the extreme upper portion of Manhattan were so
annoyed by the incessant crying of a child in the adjoining suite, that
they got up, he to smoke, and she to sit in the window for a possible
breath of cool air. They were congratulating themselves upon the wisdom
they had shown in thus giving up all thought of sleep--for the child's
crying had not ceased--when (it may have been two o'clock and it may
have been a little later) there came from somewhere near, the sharp and
somewhat peculiar detonation of a pistol-shot.

He thought it came from above; she, from the rear, and they were staring
at each other in the helpless wonder of the moment, when they were
struck by the silence. The baby had ceased to cry. All was as still
in the adjoining apartment as in their own--too still--much too still.
Their mutual stare turned to one of horror. "It came from there!"
whispered the wife. "Some accident has occurred to Mr. or Mrs.
Hammond--we ought to go--"

Her words--very tremulous ones--were broken by a shout from below. They
were standing in their window and had evidently been seen by a passing
policeman. "Anything wrong up there?" they heard him cry. Mr. Saunders
immediately looked out. "Nothing wrong here," he called down. (They were
but two stories from the pavement.) "But I'm not so sure about the
rear apartment. We thought we heard a shot. Hadn't you better come up,
officer? My wife is nervous about it. I'll meet you at the stair-head
and show you the way."

The officer nodded and stepped in. The young couple hastily donned some
wraps, and, by the time he appeared on their floor, they were ready to
accompany him.

Meanwhile, no disturbance was apparent anywhere else in the house, until
the policeman rang the bell of the Hammond apartment. Then, voices began
to be heard, and doors to open above and below, but not the one before
which the policeman stood.

Another ring, and this time an insistent one;--and still no response.
The officer's hand was rising for the third time when there came a sound
of fluttering from behind the panels against which he had laid his ear,
and finally a choked voice uttering unintelligible words. Then a hand
began to struggle with the lock, and the door, slowly opening, disclosed
a w