a
turn," he said, "before I run again' Jimmie Farrell. He had it snuggled
away next his chest among a lot of yellow-backs, good Dutchman money."

"Does he know who bet it?"

"Not his name--some stranger; he'd know him if he saw him, he says."

Crane grasped this new idea with avidity, the scent was indeed getting
hot. Why not take Farrell down to Brookfield to identify Mortimer. He
had expected the searching for evidence would be a tedious matter; his
fortunate star was guiding him straight and with rapidity to the goal he
sought.

"I'm much obliged to you," he said to Faust. "I won't trouble you
further; I'll see Farrell myself. Give me his address."

That evening the Banker saw Farrell. "There was a little crooked work
over that thousand Faust got from you," he said, "an' if you could find
time to go with me for an hour's run into the country, I think you could
identify the guilty party."

"I can go with you," Farrell answered, "but it's just a chance in a
thousand. I should be on the block down at Sheepshead, but, to tell you
the truth, the hot pace the backers set me at Brooklyn knocked me out a
bit. I'm goin' to take a breather for a few days an' lay again' 'em next
week. Yes, I'll go with you, Mr. Crane."

In the morning the two journeyed to Brookfield.

"I won't go to the bank with you," Crane said; "I wish you would go in
alone. You may make any excuse you like, or none at all. Just see if the
man you got this note from is behind the rail. I'll wait at the hotel."

In fifteen minutes he was rejoined by Farrell.

"Well?" he asked.

"He's there, right enough."

"A short dark little chap?" questioned Crane, hesitatingly, putting Alan
Porter forward as a feeler.

"No. A tall fellow with a mustache."

"You are sure?"

"Dead sure, unless he's got a double, or a twin brother."

Crane felt that at last he had got indisputable proof; evidence that
would satisfy even Allis Porter. He experienced little exhilaration over
the discovery--he had been so sure before--yet his hand was strengthened
vastly. Whatever might be the result of his suit with Allis, this must
convince her that Mortimer was guilty, and unworthy of her love. There
was also satisfaction in the thought that it quite cleared Alan of his
sister's suspicion.

How he would use this confirmation Crane hardly knew; it would come up
in its own proper place at the right time, no doubt.

"We can go back now," he said to Farrell; "we may as we