usually keep around. A gold watch with a Masonic charm had slid down between the mat tress and the window, while a showy diamond stud was still fastened in the bosom of his shirt. Taken as a whole, the personal belongings were those of a man of some means, but without any particular degree of breeding. The doctor heaped them together.
"Either robbery was not the motive," he reflected, "or the thief overlooked these things in his hurry."
The latter hypothesis seemed the more tenable, when, after a thorough search, we found no pocket-book and less than a dollar in small change.
The suit-case gave no clue. It contained one empty leather-covered flask and a pint bottle, also empty, a change of linen and some collars with the laundry mark, S. H. In the leather tag on the handle was a card with the name Simon Harrington, Pittsburg.
The conductor sat down on my unmade berth, across, and made an entry of the name and address. Then, on an old envelope, he wrote a few
