s tragedy--the most lamentable which has ever occurred in this
town--is really, and without exaggeration, a tragedy in high life. The
lady who was strangled by a brute's clutch, was a woman of the highest
culture and most estimable character. Her sister, who is supposed to have
been the unconscious cause of the crime, is a young girl of blameless
record. Of the man who was seen bending over the victim with his hands on
her throat, we cannot speak so well. He has the faults and has lived the
life of a social favourite. Gifted in many ways, and popular with both
men and women, he has swung on his course with an easy disregard of the
claims of others, which, while leaving its traces no doubt in many a
humble and uncomplaining heart, did not attract notice to his inherent
lack of principle, until the horrors of this tragedy lifted him into
public view stripped of all his charms. He's an egotist, of the first
water; there is no getting over that. But did he strangle the woman? He
says not; that he was only following some extraordinary impulse of the
moment in laying his thumbs on the marks he saw on Miss Cumberland's
neck. A fantastic story--told too late, besides, for perfect credence,
and not worthy of the least attention if--"

The reasons which followed are too well known to us for repetition.
Sweetwater listened with snapping eyes to all that was said; and when he
had been given the various clews indicating the presence of a third--and
as yet unknown--party on the scene of crime, he rose excitedly to his
feet and, declaring that it was a most promising case, begged permission
to make his own investigations at The Whispering Pines, after which he
would be quite ready to begin his search for the man in the derby hat and
high coat-collar, whose love for wine was so great that he chose and
carried off the two choicest bottles that the club-house contained.

"A hardy act for any man, gentleman or otherwise, who had just strangled
the life out of a fine woman like that. If he exists and the whole story
is not a pure fabrication of the entrapped Ranelagh, he shouldn't be hard
to find. What do you say, gentlemen? He shouldn't be hard to find."

"_We_ have not found him," emphasised the district attorney, with the
shortest possible glance at the coroner's face.

"Then the field is all before me," smiled Sweetwater. "Wish me luck,
gentlemen. It's a blind job, but that's just in my line. A map of the
town, a few general instruct