and beside, in the law, I had been guilty myself of contributory
negligence.

"I'm not trying to make you responsible," I protested as amiably
as I could, "and I believe the clothes the thief left are as good
as my own. They are certainly newer. But my valise contained
valuable papers and it is to your interest as well as mine to find
the man who stole it."

"Why, of course," the conductor said shrewdly. "Find the man who
skipped out with this gentleman's clothes, and you've probably got
the murderer."

"I went to bed in lower nine," I said, my mind full again of my lost
papers, "and I wakened in number seven. I was up in the night
prowling around, as I was unable to sleep, and I must have gone back
to the wrong berth. Anyhow, until the porter wakened me this morning
I knew nothing of my mistake. In the interval the thief--murderer,
too, perhaps--must have come back, discovered my error, and taken
advantage of it to further his escape."

The inquisitive man looked at me from between narrowed eyelids,
ferret-like.

"Did any one on the train suspect you of having valuable papers?"
he inquired. The crowd was listening intently.

"No one," I answered promptly and positively. The doctor was
investigating the murdered man's effects. The pockets of his
trousers contained the usual miscellany of keys and small change,