Since the strange case of the man in lower ten, I have been a bit squeamish. Given a case like that, where you can build up a network of clues that absolutely incriminate three entirely different people, only one of whom can be guilty, and your faith in circumstantial evidence dies of overcrowding. I never see a shivering, white-faced wretch in the prisoners\' dock that I do not hark back with shuddering horror to the strange events on the Pullman car Ontario, between Washington and Pittsburgh, on the night of September ninth, last