ut not Treving's car. Good
God! You wouldn't take me to jail in Treving's car!"

* * * * * *

Garth was restless the next day. The public, in common with the police
department and the district attorney's office, looked upon the case
against Randall as proved and, to all purposes, disposed of. But Garth,
walking along upper Fifth Avenue in the afternoon, could not resist
stopping at an expensive florist's and demanding a rose for his
button-hole. When it was brought he asked the price, and, a good deal
disconcerted, handed over the money.

For some time he gazed at the colorful, fragrant flower which swayed on
its graceful stem. Then, with an absent air, he placed it on the marble
stand and moved towards the door.

The clerks glanced at each other, amused.

"You've forgotten your rose, sir," one of them said.

"No matter," Garth replied. "I've had my money's worth."

He called at the inspector's flat after dinner. The inspector was still
at the office, but Nora commented on his restlessness immediately.

"What are you working on, Jim? Of course you're through with the Elmford
case."

"Not quite."

He faced her, fighting back the quick emotions in which her proximity
always involved him. He loved her too much to risk demanding at random a
fixed understanding. Moreover, with this case on his mind, it was
clearly not the hour.

"I've arranged for a number of subpoenas to be served in the morning,"
he said. "The servants have left the house. Your father has arranged to
call his men in. In an hour or so the house will be empty.
Nora--I--can't stay long this evening."

"Jim! What's on your mind? It's a clear case."

"Yes," he answered. "That's why Jones and the other flat-foot your
father sent out yesterday didn't search the neighborhood far enough to
find the stone building where Randall hid. It's why when I arrested him
I didn't look it over either. The arrest at the time seemed enough. But
he didn't act like a man caught with the goods. Your father says he's
clever. Maybe he is, but I wonder if he is to that extent. It's been the
trouble all along. It's too clear a case. I talked to his lawyers this
afternoon. He's refused to put in any defence."

"Isn't that proof, Jim, that he knows he hasn't a chance?"

He fumbled, almost unconsciously, with the button-hole in the lapel of
his coat.

"It might mean," he answered, "that he was protecting somebody else, and
that makes one