ently been worn out by White himself, and apparently left by him at
Belle Stanton's; but this last conclusion I was not yet quite prepared
to admit. Of course, Belle Stanton's home was a place where White might
well have left it, had it been likely that he would have left it
anywhere; but I thought it highly improbable that any man would have
walked back nearly two blocks on such a rainy night, and in evening
dress, without an overcoat; that is, unless he was out of his mind, and
White was certainly not that when I had parted from him less than an
hour earlier. Furthermore, I reasoned, if he had done so his clothes
must have shown the effect of exposure to the weather and as far as I
recalled, they were immaculate when I saw him the following morning. On
the whole I was not ready to admit that White had left the ulster there.
Assuming, therefore, that he had not done so, I turned my thoughts to
the consideration of some other means by which it could have gotten
there. It must have been taken out by some one with intimate knowledge
of White's habits and private life, and also by some one having access
to his several establishments, to at once secure the ulster and dispose
of it in a place so suggestive of the action of White. The very
conditions of the problem suggested the answer. I knew of but one man
who possessed the knowledge and opportunities required. That man was
Benton.

With the recognition of this fact came a very disagreeable sensation. I
was anxious to establish Winters's innocence, but I recoiled from the
thought of hunting down another man in his place, especially when I
realized that while the conclusion of my reasoning might raise a doubt
as to Winters's guilt, it was entirely insufficient to do more than cast
an awful suspicion upon Benton.

I sat long in reflection over the situation. I was at first inclined to
abandon the whole thing, but then I recognized the obligation to fulfil
a duty I had undertaken, especially since it had disclosed a theory of
the murder that might be the means of saving an innocent man's life.
Could I, to spare the feelings or even to spare the reputation of
another man who might be either innocent or guilty, leave Winters to the
fate I felt must overtake him if I did not interfere?

My duty was plain; miserable as was the task, I must go on with it to a
conclusion one way or the other, but I determined that so long as I
could, I would pursue the investigation alone, and thu