an ingenuity and diabolical cunning of which he
had shown no previous symptom. Hypothesis was piled on hypothesis, as in
the old Oriental legend, where the world rested on the elephant and the
elephant on the tortoise. It might be worth while, however, to point out
that it was at least quite likely that the death of Mr. Constant had not
taken place before seven, and as the prisoner left Euston Station at
7:15 a. m. for Liverpool, he could certainly not have got there from Bow
in the time; also that it was hardly possible for the prisoner, who
could prove being at Euston Station at 5:25 a. m., to travel backward
and forward to Glover Street and commit the crime all within less than
two hours. "The real facts," said Sir Charles impressively, "are most
simple. The prisoner, partly from pressure of work, partly (he had no
wish to conceal) from worldly ambition, had begun to neglect Miss
Dymond, to whom he was engaged to be married. The man was but human, and
his head was a little turned by his growing importance. Nevertheless, at
heart he was still deeply attached to Miss Dymond. She, however, appears
to have jumped to the conclusion that he had ceased to love her, that
she was unworthy of him, unfitted by education to take her place side by
side with him in the new spheres to which he was mounting--that, in
short, she was a drag on his career. Being, by all accounts, a girl of
remarkable force of character, she resolved to cut the Gordian knot by
leaving London, and, fearing lest her affianced husband's
conscientiousness should induce him to sacrifice himself to her;
dreading also, perhaps, her own weakness, she made the parting absolute,
and the place of her refuge a mystery. A theory has been suggested which
drags an honored name in the mire--a theory so superfluous that I shall
only allude to it. That Arthur Constant could have seduced, or had any
improper relations with his friend's betrothed is a hypothesis to which
the lives of both give the lie. Before leaving London--or England--Miss
Dymond wrote to her aunt in Devonport--her only living relative in this
country--asking her as a great favor to forward an addressed letter to
the prisoner, a fortnight after receipt. The aunt obeyed implicitly.
This was the letter which fell like a thunderbolt on the prisoner on the
night of December 3d. All his old love returned--he was full of
self-reproach and pity for the poor girl. The letter read ominously.
Perhaps she was going t