ght, or if not the night, the
next twenty-four hours, _did_ make a change, as even old Sally Perkins
observed. Widow Clemmens was struck down and Craik Mansell became the
possessor of the five thousand dollars he so much wanted in order to win
for himself a fortune and a bride."

Mr. Byrd, who had been sitting with his face turned aside during this
long recital, slowly rose to his feet. "Hickory," said he, and his tone
had an edge of suppressed feeling in it that made the other start,
"don't let me ever hear you say, in my presence, that you think this
young and beautiful woman was the one to suggest murder to this man, for
I won't hear it. And now," he continued, more calmly, "tell me why this
babbling old wretch did not enliven the inquest with her wonderful tale.
It would have been a fine offset to the testimony of Miss Firman."

"She said she wasn't fond of coroners and had no wish to draw the
attention of twelve of her own townsfolk upon herself. She didn't mean
to commit herself with me," pursued Hickory, rising also. "She was going
to give me a hint of the real state of affairs; or, rather, set me
working in the right direction, as this little note which she tucked
under the door of my room at the hotel will show. But I was too quick
for her, and had her by the arm before she could shuffle down the
stairs. It was partly to prove her story was true and not a romance made
up for the occasion, that I lured this woman here this afternoon."

"You are not as bad a fellow as I thought," Mr. Byrd admitted, after a
momentary contemplation of the other's face. "If I might only know how
you managed to effect this interview."

"Nothing easier. I found in looking over the scraps of paper which
Mansell had thrown into the waste-paper basket in Buffalo, the draft of
a note which he had written to Miss Dare, under an impulse which he
afterward probably regretted. It was a summons to their usual place of
tryst at or near this hut, and though unsigned, was of a character, as I
thought, to effect its purpose. I just sent it to her, that's all."

The nonchalance with which this was said completed Mr. Byrd's
astonishment.

"You are a worthy disciple of Gryce," he asserted, leading the way to
the door.

"Think so?" exclaimed the man, evidently flattered at what he considered
a great compliment. "Then shake hands," he cried, with a frank appeal
Mr. Byrd found it hard to resist. "Ah, you don't want to," he somewhat
ruefully decl