drove back to the bridge, determined to find the revolver, if
possible, and then hunt up Inspector Robinson to learn what he had to
report. Apparently, my suspicions of Frank Woods were groundless. He
had had dinner at the club and then waited around for Jim to keep his
appointment. He had been seen by Jackson at eight twenty-five; Jackson
was positive of that fact. Ten or fifteen minutes at the most in which
to go six miles to the bridge and back to the club, put up his car and
ask Jackson for a drink. The thing couldn't be done. He had heard of
Jim's death with surprise and had heard of Helen's injury with the
greatest horror. There seemed to be no doubt of one thing: no matter
how much he wished for Jim's death, no matter how much he benefited by
the murder, Frank Woods, himself, didn't do the killing.

An automobile was standing at the bridge when I got there and I cursed
the whim that had sent me to the club on a false scent and kept me from
having an uninterrupted search for the weapon. When I saw, however,
that the driver of the automobile was Inspector Robinson, I was greatly
relieved, for this would not only give me a chance to learn what he had
discovered concerning the men in the black limousine, but would not
interfere with the search for Jim's gun. Robinson had his coat off and
his sleeves rolled up and was fishing around the edge of the little
creek with his hands. So engrossed was he in his task that I was
almost upon him before he looked up.

"Good afternoon, Inspector," I addressed him. "What are you doing,
digging for gold or making mud pies?"

"I'm gettin' bait to catch a sucker," he snarled. "You must have
thought you had one this morning."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"All that bunk you handed me about Schreiber and the men in the black
limousine. That was a fine stall you pulled. I might have known you
was tryin' to cover up somebody's tracks."

He dried his hands on a rather flamboyant, yellow handkerchief.

"I haven't the least idea what you are talking about," I replied coldly.

"Oh, you haven't, haven't you?" the little man burst out malignantly.
"You're innocent, you are! Too damned innocent! I suppose you didn't
know that your brother-in-law was shot in the back of the head and that
your sister was the only one that was with him when it was done. I
suppose that's news--eh?"

My heart stood still as I heard his words. So he was after the proof
that Helen did it.