ie reflected. He was
afraid to ask further questions about the car and his senses were numbed
by the effort to determine whether it was Hoky he had shot or Mr. Putney
Congdon. If his bullet had impinged upon Congdon's person, the man would
undoubtedly believe his wife had ordered him murdered, and Archie found
no consolation in the conjecture that he had added to Mrs. Congdon's
distress. If Congdon wasn't dead he would be sure to make diligent
inquiries in the village as to his assailant and the stolen car. The
druggist would know who had taken the key and Archie had stated his
purpose to walk to the station and take the five eleven train. But
beyond Bailey Harbor he saw his alibi crumbling.

The Governor's ceaseless flow of talk fortunately diverted his thoughts
to more cheerful channels. He must stick to the Governor, who to be sure
showed no inclination to desert him. Indeed the Governor evinced a
sincere pleasure in his society, and if he behaved himself he might fill
the void created in the man's life by the loss of Hoky. He would remain
in hiding until the whole thing blew over, whether it was Hoky or Putney
Congdon he had shot in Congdon's house.

He obeyed with alacrity a hint that he prepare luncheon; and after this
had been consumed the Governor suggested a game of chess, produced a set
of ivory chessmen from a cupboard and soon proved himself a skilful
player.

"It's wonderful for sharpening the wits," he explained. "When I've got a
difficult job on hand I find a game stimulating to my faculties. Let me
see, who was that telegram addressed to? Congdon; yes, that's right.
Dropped into a chess club in Boston about a month ago and watched a chap
playing, highly nervous fellow but a pretty stiff player at that. They
called him Congdon all right and he may be the owner of that car. The
thought pleases me. Heard him asking for his father, Eliphalet Congdon,
who's a chess fiend, too, it appeared. Had heard of him before--the old
boy carries his will around in his umbrella just to tantalize his
relations, who are all crazy to know what he's going to do with his
money. Something pathetic in a man chasing his own father over the
country; doesn't gee with our old ideal of the patriarchal system with
father at the head of the table serving the whole family from one
miserable duck. Ever notice a queer streak of eccentricity in people who
toy with the chessmen? Of course you're thinking I'm no exception to the
rule, but