nt tone:

"I did not kill Arthur and I know nothing about his death, but
everything those witnesses testified to concerning me was true just the
same. I did go to his house that night, and I went there to try and get
money from him. I had been drinking as usual and had no money, and I
wanted it to drink and gamble with. Arthur had given me money before,
when I asked him for it," he continued, "and I knew if I could find him,
he would again. So I went to his house and seeing a light in his room,
looked in the window to find out whether he was there and alone or not.
I saw him asleep on the sofa--or perhaps he was dead then, I do not
know." He stopped a moment to recover his breath, and then went on. "I
was about to ring the bell when I saw a policeman observing me, and as
it was late I thought I had better wait until he was gone and so went
away. After awhile I returned again and started to enter the house when
I saw something lying on the flagging in the vestibule. I picked it up,
and finding it was a fifty-dollar bill, put it in my pocket and hurried
back to the saloon where I had left my friend.

"The rest you know," he continued; "we went to Smith's gambling house,
and there I lost the money, and then I went to my room and went to
sleep. The next afternoon I read of the murder in the papers and went to
Arthur's house, meaning to go in and see him, but I was so ill and
nervous that I had not the courage to do it, and after staying around
the place for awhile, where you saw me, I returned to my room."

He relapsed into silence and I thought he had finished what he had to
say, but he had evidently only been trying to collect his thoughts, for
he continued: "I cannot remember very well what I did from then until I
was arrested and taken to the station house. I was too ill at the time
to think much about it, and I had no idea that there was any belief that
I had killed Arthur until the Inspector accused me of it, and I hardly
realized it then." He stopped but neither Miles nor I said anything,
wishing him to volunteer all he had to tell, and seeing our expectation
he added: "That is all I know about it."

After he had finished he sat looking at me inquiringly, almost
pleadingly, but I was silent, for I did not know what to say to him. I
believed his story: it was simple and straightforward and told without
hesitation, but I saw it afforded no satisfactory defence and when told
at the trial under the strain and exciteme