terror--abnormally clear to see what you dreaded. Because you are
fair-minded, because it has been the habit of your life to correct at
once any conscious prejudice in your judgment, you have swayed to the
side of unfairness to yourself, to Jack. Uncle," he flashed out, "would
it tear your soul to have me state the case as I see it? I might, you
know--I might bring out something that would make it look different."

Almost a smile touched the gray lines of his face. "If you wish."

The young man drew himself into his chair and clasped his hands around
his knee. "Here it is. Mr. Newbold, on the seventh floor of the Bruzon
bachelor apartments, heard a shot at one in the morning, next his
bedroom, in Ben Armstrong's room. He hurried into the public hall, saw
the door wide open into Ben's apartment, went in and found Ben shot
dead. Trying to use the telephone to call help, he found it was out of
order. So he rushed again into the hall toward the elevator with the
idea of getting Dr. Avery, who lived below on the second floor. The
elevator door was open also, and a man's opera-hat lay near it on the
floor; he saw, just in time, that the car was at the bottom of the
shaft, almost stepping inside, in his excitement, before he noticed
this. Then he ran down the stairs with Jack's hat in his hand, and got
Dr. Avery, and they found Jack at the foot of the elevator shaft. It was
known that Ben Armstrong and Jack had quarrelled the day before; it was
known that Jack was quick-tempered; it is known that he bought that
evening the pistol which was found on the floor by Ben, loaded, with one
empty shell. That's the story."

The steady voice stopped a moment and the young man shivered slightly;
his look was strained. Steadily he went on.