egan again his interested
survey of the premises. Whoever conceived this sort of haven for Clark,
if it were Clark, had shown considerable shrewdness. The town fairly
smelt of respectability; the tree-shaded streets, the children in socks
and small crisp-laundered garments, the houses set back, each in its
square of shaved lawn, all peaceful, middle class and unexciting. The
last town in the world for Judson Clark, the last profession, the last
house, this shabby old brick before him.

He smiled rather grimly as he reflected that if Gregory had been right
in his identification, he was, beyond those windows at that moment, very
possibly warning Clark against himself. Gregory would know his type,
that he never let go. He drew himself up a little.

The house door opened, and Gregory came out, turning toward the station.
Bassett caught up with him and put a hand on his arm.

"Well?" he said cheerfully. "It was, wasn't it?"

Gregory stopped dead and stared at him. Then:

"Old dog Tray!" he said sneeringly. "If your brain was as good as your
nose, Bassett, you'd be a whale of a newspaper man."

"Don't bother about my brain. It's working fine to-day, anyhow. Well,
what had he to say for himself?"

Gregory's mind was busy, and he had had a moment to pull himself
together.

"We both get off together," he said, more amiably. "That fellow isn't
Jud Clark and never was. He's a doctor, and the nephew of the old doctor
there. They're in practice together."

"Did you see them both?"

"Yes."

Bassett eyed him. Either Gregory was a good actor, or the whole trail
ended there after all. He himself had felt, after his interview, with
Dick, that the scent was false. And there was this to be said: Gregory
had been in the house scarcely ten minutes. Long enough to acknowledge a
mistake, but hardly long enough for any dramatic identification. He was
keenly disappointed, but he had had long experience of disappointment,
and after a moment he only said:

"Well, that's that. He certainly looked like Clark to me."

"I'll say he did."

"Rather surprised him, didn't you?"

"Oh, he was all right," Gregory said. "I didn't tell him anything, of
course."

Bassett looked at his watch.

"I was after you, all right," he said, cheerfully. "But if I was barking
up the wrong tree, I'm done. I don't have to be hit on the head to
make me stop. Come and have a soda-water on me," he finished amiably.
"There's no train until seven."

But G