told her. "We ought to know right soon now."

The clerk in the recorder's office smiled when Kirby said he wanted to
look through the license register. He swung the book round toward them.

"Help yourself. What's the big idea? Another young fellow was in
lookin' at the licenses only a minute ago."

The clerk moved over to another desk where he was typewriting. His
back was turned toward them. Kirby turned the pages of the book. He
and Rose looked them over together. They covered the record for three
months without finding anything of interest. Patiently they went over
the leaves again.

Kirby stepped over to the clerk. "Do you happen to remember whether
you made out any license application for a man named Cunningham any
time in the past two months?" he asked.

"For a marriage license?"

"Yes."

"Don't think I have. Can't remember the name. I was on my vacation
two weeks. Maybe it was then. Can't you find it in the book?"

"No."

"Know the date?"

Kirby shook his head.

The voice of Rose, high with excitement, came from across the room.
"Looky here."

Her finger ran down the book, close to the binding. A page had been
cut out with a sharp penknife, so deftly that they had passed it twice
without noticing.

"Who did that?" demanded the clerk angrily.

"Probably the young man who was just in here. His name is Jack
Cunningham," Lane answered.

"What in time did he want to do that for? If he wanted it why didn't
he take a copy? The boss'll give me Hail Columbia. That's what a
fellow gets for being accommodating."

"He did it so that we wouldn't see it. Is there any other record kept
of the marriages?"

"Sure there is. The preachers and the judges who perform marriages
have to turn back to us the certificate within thirty days and we make
a record of it."

"Can I see that book?"

"I'll do the lookin'," the clerk said shortly. "Whose marriage is it?
And what date?"

Lane gave such information as he could. The clerk mellowed when Rose
told him it was very important to her, as officials have a way of doing
when charming young women smile at them. But he found no record of any
marriage of which they knew either of the contracting parties.

"Once in a while some preacher forgets to turn in his certificate," the
clerk said as he closed the book. "Old Rankin is the worst that way.
He forgets. You might look him up."

Kirby slipped the clerk a dollar and turned away. Rankin