"I've gone over 'em like a scrutineer over a voter's list. I've tested 'em all, one by one; but they all end up at the blank wall."
"Well, before we go back to these possibilities again, how about the personal equation? Have you any feeling, any emotional bias, any one inclination about the thing, no matter how ridiculous it may seem?"
He closed his eyes, and appeared to be deep in thought.
"I've always felt one thing," he confessed, "I've always felt—mind you, I only say felt—that when I signed for that Carlton letter, I carried it into Lockwood's own room with his own personal mail, and either gave it to him or left it on his desk."
"What makes you feel that?"
"In the first place, I must have known he'd seen Carlton recently, and had a clearer idea of his address at the time, than I had. In the second place, being registered, it must have impressed me as being comparatively important."
"And Lockwood himself?"
"He says I'm mistaken. He holds I never gave him the letter, or he would have remembered it."
"And circumstances seem to back him up in this?"
"Everything backs him up," was the answer.