xiety. He even
insisted upon my making the most careful examination of all his organs,
especially of his eyes, which, he said, had troubled him at various
times. Upon making the usual tests, I found that he was suffering from a
most uncommon form of colour blindness, that seemed to vary in its
manifestations, and to be connected with certain hallucinations or
abnormal mental states which recurred periodically, and about which I
had great difficulty in persuading him to speak. At each visit I took
occasion to study his hand anew, and each reading of the palm gave me
stronger conviction that here was a life mystery that would abundantly
repay any pains taken in unravelling it.

While I was in this state of mind, consumed with a desire to know more
of my unhappy acquaintance and yet not daring to press him with
questions, there came a tragic happening that revealed to me with
startling suddenness the secret I was bent on knowing. One night, very
late,--in fact it was about four o'clock in the morning,--I received an
urgent summons to the bedside of a man who had been shot. As I bent over
him I saw that it was my friend, and for the first time I realized that
he was a man of wealth and position, for he lived in a beautifully
furnished house filled with art treasures and looked after by a retinue
of servants. From one of these I learned that he was Richard Burwell,
one of New York's most respected citizens--in fact, one of her
best-known philanthropists, a man who for years had devoted his life and
fortune to good works among the poor.

But what most excited my surprise was the presence in the house of two
officers, who informed me that Mr. Burwell was under arrest, charged
with murder. The officers assured me that it was only out of deference
to his well-known standing in the community that the prisoner had been
allowed the privilege of receiving medical treatment in his own home;
their orders were peremptory to keep him under close surveillance.

Giving no time to further questionings, I at once proceeded to examine
the injured man, and found that he was suffering from a bullet wound in
the back at about the height of the fifth rib. On probing for the
bullet, I found that it had lodged near the heart, and decided that it
would be exceedingly dangerous to try to remove it immediately. So I
contented myself with administering a sleeping potion.

As soon as I was free to leave Burwell's bedside I returned to the
officers