Strong and the
butler in the Whitmore house, it is obvious that Whitmore sent a letter
to Mrs. Collins, with whom he was in love. Something transpired to make
him regret having sent the note and he decided to steal it out of the
post office. He was caught before he had succeeded in 'jimmying' the
door, so that the letter must have been delivered at the Collins house.
I take it, from the threats which Collins made against Whitmore, that he
intercepted the note and that a lively scene between him and his wife
followed.

"As for Whitmore, he did a most sensible thing. He kept his identity
effectually concealed. Before arriving at the post office he had
disguised himself in cheap, shabby clothes, so that when he was captured
no one thought he was other than an ordinary burglar. At the police
station, and subsequently in the Federal court, he gave his name as
Arthur Travis. It was such an unusual name for a cheap post office
burglar that I determined instantly there was some connection between
the attempted robbery and Whitmore's murder.

"Ordinarily, we are both aware, the capture of an unimportant post
office robber, would not be allotted more than a paragraph or two in the
newspapers. As the banking investigation was occupying pages of space
seven weeks ago, Travis's arrest was not even mentioned in most of the
papers, while those that took note of it, buried the item on one of the
inside pages.

"Whitmore, alias Travis, had the ablest lawyer in the city to advise
him. Undoubtedly Tom Luckstone counseled him as to the manner in which
he was to conduct himself in jail and in court so as not to arouse
newspaper curiosity. Well, ten days before Whitmore returned to his
death, he pleaded guilty and was sentenced to two years and a half in
jail. And on the day before he returned to his business, a deputy
marshal started with him for Atlanta."

"But how did he get away?" interrupted the chief. "There was nothing in
the papers about an escape."

"Arthur Travis is in the Atlanta prison," said Britz. "But the prisoner
isn't Herbert Whitmore."

The chief's eyes alternated between Britz and Greig, as if trying to
read the explanation of the puzzling circumstances, in their faces.

"I don't quite get it," he acknowledged.

"Of course, the prisoner can't be Whitmore. He's dead. There's no doubt
of that."

"Not the slightest," acquiesced Britz. "Yet Whitmore and Travis were one
and the same person. Now what do you think occ