t seemed, had not been very interesting; canceled checks
and receipted bills, and a large bundle of letters, all of them from a
brother named David and a sister who signed herself Lucy. There had
been a sealed one, too, addressed to David Livingstone, and to be opened
after his death. She had had her husband wire to "David" and he had come
out, too late for the funeral.

"Do you remember when that was?"

"Let me see. Henry Livingstone died about a month before the murder at
the Clark ranch. We date most things around here from that time."

"How long did 'David' stay?" Bassett had tried to keep his tone
carefully conversational, but he saw that it was not necessary. She was
glad of a chance to talk.

"Well, I'd say about three or four weeks. He hadn't seen his brother for
years, and I guess there was no love lost. He sold everything as quick
as he could, and went back East." She glanced at the clock. "My husband
will be in soon for dinner. I'd be glad to have you stay and take a meal
with us."

The reporter thanked her and declined.

"It's an interesting story," he said. "I didn't tell your husband, for
I wasn't sure I was on the right trail. But the David and Lucy business
eliminates this man. There's a piece of property waiting in the East
for a Henry Livingstone who came to this state in the 80's, or for his
heirs. You can say positively that this man was not married?"

"No. He didn't like women. Never had one on the place. Two ranch hands
that are still at the Wassons' and himself, that was all. The Wassons
are the folks who bought the ranch."

No housekeeper then, and no son born out of wedlock, so far as any
evidence went. All that glib lying in the doctor's office, all that
apparent openness and frankness, gone by the board! The man in the
cabin, reported by Maggie Donaldson, had been David Livingstone.
Somehow, some way, he had got Judson Clark out of the country and
spirited him East. Not that the how mattered just yet. The essential
fact was there, that David Livingstone had been in this part of the
country at the time Maggie Donaldson had been nursing Judson Clark in
the mountains.

Bassett sat back and chewed the end of his cigar thoughtfully. The
sheer boldness of the scheme which had saved Judson Clark compelled his
admiration, but the failure to cover the trail, the ease with which he
had picked it up, made him suspicious.

He rose and threw away his cigar.

"You say this David went East, whe