The other picture was more tragic still.  I was seeking Mrs. Zabriskie in her own room, when I caught a fleeting vision of her tall form, with her arms thrown up over her head in a paroxysm of feeling which made her as oblivious to my presence as her husband had been several hours before.  Were the words that escaped her lips “Thank God we have no children!” or was this exclamation suggested to me by the passion and unrestrained impulse of her action?

So much up to date.  Interesting enough, or so her employer seemed to think, as he went hurriedly through the whole story, one special afternoon in his office, tapping each sheet as he laid it aside with his sagacious forefinger, as though he would say, “Enough!  My theory still holds good; nothing contradictory here; on the contrary complete and undisputable confirmation of the one and only explanation of this astounding crime.”

What was that theory; and in what way and through whose efforts had he been enabled to form one?  The following notes may enlighten us.  Though written in his own hand, and undoubtedly a memorandum of his own activities, he evidently thinks it worth while to reperuse them in connection with those he had just laid aside.

We can do no better than read them also.

We omit dates.

Watched the Zabriskie mansion for five hours this morning, from the second story window of an adjoining hotel.  Saw the doctor when he drove away on his round of visits, and saw him when he returned.  A coloured man accompanied him.

Today I followed Mrs. Zabriskie.  She went first to a house in Washington Place where I am told her mother lives.  Here she stayed some time, after which she drove down to Canal Street, where she did some shopping, and later stopped at the hospital, into which I took the liberty of following her.  She seemed to know many there, and passed from cot to cot with a smile in which I alone discerned the sadness of a broken heart.  When she left, I left also, without having learned anything beyond the fact that Mrs. Zabriskie is one who does her duty in sorrow as in joy.  A rare, and trustworthy woman I should say, and yet her husband does not trust her.  Why?

I have spent this day in accumulating details in regard to Dr. and Mrs. Zabriskie’s life previous to the death of Mr. Hasbrouck.  I learned from sources it would be unwise to quote just here, that Mrs. Zabriskie had not lacked enemies to charge her with coquetry; that while she had never sacrificed her dignity in public, more than one person had been heard to declare that Dr. Zabriskie was fortunate in being blind, since the sight of his wife’s beauty would have but poorly compensated him for the pain he would have suffered in seeing how that beauty was admired.