CHAPTER XXXIII
Arrested for the murder of Arletta Fogg, after being positively
identified by the elevator attendant and the night watchman as being the
only person who visited her apartments on the night of the crime, was
the next incident of my strange career. Thrown into prison, and caged
like a savage beast in a little cell hardly large enough to turn around
in, has been my lot ever since that awful tragedy. The case attracted
widespread interest, and the newspapers teemed with sensational accounts
of it. At the trial, all of the evidence pointed directly to me as the
perpetrator of the deed. The elevator operator swore that I was the man
whom he had taken to Arletta's apartments shortly after eleven o'clock
that night. The watchman testified that he saw me leave her room at
three o'clock in the morning. On the stand, I was made to tell, under
oath, that Arletta and I had been lovers; that we had been together that
same night in the park, and had parted at about half past ten o'clock;
that she had informed me of her intention to never see me again. By
these statements the prosecuting attorney showed the motive for the
crime. I could give no account of my time between half past ten that
night and the next day at noon, which was another strong point against
me. I had pleaded not guilty, feeling that as I knew nothing about the
crime I could not very wisely do otherwise, but also, stating that I had
suffered a temporary aberration of the mind during that time, and that
if I really did commit the deed, which I could not believe possible,
then I had done it in an entirely different character or personality
from my normal self.
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