lves, I candidly can't see an inch in front of my face in
the matter."

"Nor can I," said the blind man, with a rather wry smile. "Never mind.
The engine-driver is your client, of course?"

"Yes," admitted Carlyle. "But how the deuce did you know?"

"Let us say that your sympathies are enlisted on his behalf. The jury
were inclined to exonerate the signalman, weren't they? What has the
company done with your man?"

"Both are suspended. Hutchins, the driver, hears that he may probably
be given charge of a lavatory at one of the stations. He is a decent,
bluff, short-spoken old chap, with his heart in his work. Just now
you'll find him at his worst--bitter and suspicious. The thought of
swabbing down a lavatory and taking pennies all day is poisoning him."

"Naturally. Well, there we have honest Hutchins: taciturn, a little
touchy perhaps, grown grey in the service of the company, and
manifesting quite a bulldog-like devotion to his favourite 538."

"Why, that actually was the number of his engine--how do you know it?"
demanded Carlyle sharply.

"It was mentioned two or three times at the inquest, Louis," replied
Carrados mildly.

"And you remembered--with no reason to?"

"You can generally trust a blind man's memory, especially if he has
taken the trouble to develop it."

"Then you will remember that Hutchins did not make a very good
impression at the time. He was surly and irritable under the ordeal. I
want you to see the case from all sides."

"He called the signalman--Mead--a 'lying young dog,' across the room,
I believe. Now, Mead, what is he like? You have seen him, of course?"

"Yes. He does not impress me favourably. He is glib, ingratiating, and
distinctly 'greasy.' He has a ready answer for everything almost
before the question is out of your mouth. He has thought of
everything."

"And now you are going to tell me something, Louis," said Carrados
encouragingly.

Mr. Carlyle laughed a little to cover an involuntary movement of
surprise.

"There is a suggestive line that was not touched at the inquiries," he
admitted. "Hutchins has been a saving man all his life, and he has
received good wages. Among his class he is regarded as wealthy. I
daresay that he has five hundred pounds in the bank. He is a widower
with one daughter, a very nice-mannered girl of about twenty. Mead is
a young man, and he and the girl are sweethearts--have been informally
engaged for some time. But old Hutchins would not