d facts of which I had not before been
aware.

I had been told, as I have said, that White had gone out after we had
left him, but it now developed from the night-officer's story that White
had left the house a little after one o'clock wearing the plaid ulster
and cap and had gone rapidly west on the north side of the street. He
had returned the salute of the officer who was on the opposite side of
the street. What further direction White took the officer could not say,
as he had not watched him. He did not see White return, but about half
an hour later when he was again approaching the house on his rounds he
had observed a man peering in at one of White's windows, where the shade
was slightly up, who, on finding himself observed, had walked away. The
officer's suspicions were aroused, however, and he had returned to the
scene again in a few minutes, and had then seen what appeared to be the
same man come out of the vestibule of White's house and hurry west,
turning up Sixth Avenue.

He had followed him to this point, though no further, but had gotten a
fair view of him, and thought he could identify him by his clothing and
walk.

"And how about the plaid ulster," I asked; "did the man have it or any
large bundle with him that might contain it?"

"No," the Inspector answered, "he was dressed in a light overcoat and a
brown derby hat, and carried no bundle of any kind."

"Then, where is the ulster," I repeated.

"I don't know," he replied, I thought, somewhat testily.

"We have got to find that coat, nevertheless," I persisted.

"We will find it, sir; I'll promise that," said Miles; "that is, if it
has not been destroyed."

"Have you any idea," I asked, after a moment's reflection, "who was the
man the night-officer saw?"

"Yes," said the Inspector, "we have an idea it may have been White's
cousin, Winters."

"Henry Winters, do you mean?" I asked, startled.

"Yes," he said, "do you know him?"

I made no answer, but my thoughts went back to the old college days when
Winters was a bright-faced, merry boy, and we had been chums and
inseparable companions. Since then he had gone from bad to worse till he
had become a social outcast, and we had drifted altogether apart, but
even thus I could not believe of him this awful charge. There must, I
felt, be some mistake somewhere, and I asked, doubtfully, why they
thought it was Winters.

"Because," the Inspector replied, "the officer had seen him come out of
Whi