very same clothes as Nick had seen upon the woman in room B. 

 Mrs. Jones was evidently very nervous, but she made a fine attempt to control herself. 

 "You have my husband under arrest, I believe," she said. "And he is accused, they say, of killing me." 

 She tried to smile, but it was rather a ghastly effort. 

 The superintendent motioned the woman to a seat. 

 "Mr. John Jones is here," he said, "and he is suspected of murder." 

 "I have read about it," replied the woman. "There certainly appeared to be evidence against him, but of course you must be aware that I know him to be innocent." 

 "How?" 

 "Because I was with him when the crime was committed. At half-past seven o'clock of that evening we were walking toward the Grand Central Depot. 

 "We had dined in our flat. The people who say they saw us go out tell the truth. 

 "But we came back. It was my intention to take an afternoon train, but I decided to wait. 

 "So we came back and had dinner. Nobody saw us go in or out of the flat. 

 "After dinner we walked to the depot, and I took the eight-ten train for my home in Maysville, ten miles from Albany. 

 "I arrived in Albany Wednesday morning, and remained there with friends throughout the day and night. Then I went to Maysville, where I heard the news, and came back at once." 

 The superintendent touched his bell. Two minutes later John Jones was brought into the room. 

 "Amy!" exclaimed he. "How came you here?" 

 He ran up to her, and they greeted each other affectionately. The woman, who had controlled herself up to this point, burst into tears. Jones turned in wrath toward Nick. 

 "Haven't we had enough of this infernal nonsense?" he exclaimed. "You have raised the devil with my business and scared my wife into a fit. Now let me out, and arrest the Ameer of Afghanistan. He had more to do with this affair than I did." 

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