is a case for the doctors and not for the police.
Remove him quietly, and notify Dr. Southyard of what I say."

But Dr. Zabriskie, who seemed to have an almost supernatural acuteness
of hearing, gave a violent start at this and spoke up for the first time
with real passion in his voice:

"No, no, I pray you. I can bear anything but that. Remember, gentlemen,
that I am blind; that I cannot see who is about me; that my life would
be a torture if I felt myself surrounded by spies watching to catch some
evidence of madness in me. Rather conviction at once, death, dishonor,
and obloquy. These I have incurred. These I have brought upon myself by
crime, but not this worse fate--oh! not this worse fate."

His passion was so intense and yet so confined within the bounds of
decorum, that we felt strangely impressed by it. Only the wife stood
transfixed, with the dread growing in her heart, till her white, waxen
visage seemed even more terrible to contemplate than his
passion-distorted one.

"It is not strange that my wife thinks me demented," the Doctor
continued, as if afraid of the silence that answered him. "But it is
your business to discriminate, and you should know a sane man when you
see him."

Inspector D---- no longer hesitated.

"Very well," said he, "give us the least proof that your assertions are
true, and we will lay your case before the prosecuting attorney."

"Proof? Is not a man's word----"

"No man's confession is worth much without some evidence to support it.
In your case there is none. You cannot even produce the pistol with
which you assert yourself to have committed the deed."

"True, true. I was frightened by what I had done, and the instinct of
self-preservation led me to rid myself of the weapon in any way I could.
But some one found this pistol; some one picked it up from the sidewalk
of Lafayette Place on that fatal night. Advertise for it. Offer a
reward. I will give you the money." Suddenly he appeared to realize how
all this sounded. "Alas!" cried he, "I know the story seems improbable;
all I say seems improbable; but it is not the probable things that
happen in this life, but the improbable, as you should know, who every
day dig deep into the heart of human affairs."

Were these the ravings of insanity? I began to understand the wife's
terror.

"I bought the pistol," he went on, "of--alas! I cannot tell you his name.
Everything is against me. I cannot adduce one proof; yet she, even s