gardens and vacant lots in the street. The house in which Siders
lodged belonged to a travelling salesman by the name of Winter. The
man was away from home a great deal, and his wife, with her child
and an old servant, lived in the lower part of the house, while the
rooms occupied by Siders were in the upper story. Siders lived
very quietly, going out frequently in the afternoon, but returning
early in the evening. He had said to his landlady that he had many
friends in G--. But during the time of his stay in the house he had
had but one caller, a gentleman who came on the evening of the 23rd
of September. The old maid had opened the door for him and showed
him to Mr. Siders' rooms. She described this visitor as having a
full black beard, and wearing a broad-brimmed grey felt hat. Nobody
saw the man go out, for the old maid, the only person in the house
at the time, had retired early. Mrs. Winter and her little girl
were spending the night with the former's mother in a distant part
of the city. The next morning the old servant, taking the lodger's
coffee up to him at the usual hour, found him dead on the floor of
his sitting-room, shot through the heart. The woman ran screaming
from the house and alarmed the neighbours. A policeman at the
corner heard the noise, and led the crowd up to the room where the
dead man lay. It was plain to be seen that this was not a case of
suicide. Everywhere were signs of a terrible struggle. The
furniture was overturned, the dressing-table and the cupboard were
open and their contents scattered on the floor, one of the window
curtains was torn into strips, as if the victim had been trying to
escape by way of the window, but had been dragged back into the
room by his murderer. An overturned ink bottle on the table had
spattered wide, and added to the general confusion. In the midst
of the disorder lay the body of the murdered man, now cold in the
rigour of death.